


Stepfather

by Pokypup49



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst, Cravings, F/M, Friendship, I'm sorry Roy, It's not a 3 some, Jean really loves her, Jean's just trying to help, Love triangle thing, Pregancy fic, Riza isn't that type of girl, dads, deep brutal angst, old time ways, puking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:42:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 56,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27617839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pokypup49/pseuds/Pokypup49
Summary: Riza is pregnant, with Roy as the father. Jean knows their reputation is at risk and offers to marry Riza to avoid a scandal. Unfortunately, feelings never die and Jean is caught in the middle.
Relationships: Jean Havoc & Roy Mustang, Jean Havoc/Riza Hawkeye, Rebecca Catalina & Jean Havoc, Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 59
Kudos: 73





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any Fullmetal Alchemist Characters! I'm just torturing them because I can.

Jean crossed his legs and looked through the paper. There wasn’t anything interesting in it. There was a story about the dog park and how they were moving it to hourly intervals, which amused Jean only because it was a dog park and some city bureaucrat was making a political statement about it. There was another story on roadwork, train schedules, and even about a barber who was celebrating his 20th year open. His hands flicked the paper so that it stood on end and he puffed out a whitish blue puff of smoke from his lips. “I knew this was going to happen,” he mumbled. “I’m not sure why you’re surprised.” 

“We’re not. It’s only...” His friend’s fingers tightened on his coffee mug. “It’s her reputation... it's his reputation… and the scandal it will cause” 

Jean raised his eyebrow as he lowered the paper to see Heyman’s face. He rarely, if ever, saw his friend frazzled. Heymans could hold a poker face and was always sure of himself. Now there were worry lines between his brow from the heavy stress he was taking on at the office, and his breathing heavy. Sure, the man was heavier set, but he was resting and already worked up. His beard was light as if he shaved it but it was growing back, but his hair was longer than usual, meaning he had been too busy for a haircut. 

“It’s Hawkeye!” Heymans pinched the bridge of his nose. “It just had to be her.” 

Jean put the paper down and snorted a laugh. “Why doesn’t the general just admit the kid is his and get it over with?” He pulled the cigarette from his lips and tapped the ash on the ground. 

“You know why,” Heymans ran his hand through his short red-orange hair. Jean's sarcasm was lost in the frustration and loyalty of Heymans. “Shit, the bullshit that would ensue! Mustang would lose his position from a loss of integrity alone!” 

The blonde man sat back in his chair and rubbed the hairs of his goatee downward. This could not have been a truer statement. Of course, Mustang would do his best to save Hawkeye. He’d do whatever he could as a general to make it better for her. However, there was only so much one could do before rumors started. 

“Yet, she’s going to keep her integrity screwed and blown to save him.” Heymans ran his hand through his red hair and sat back. “You know how the two of them are.” 

Jean’s blue eyes flashed towards his friend. “Do you really think it’s Mustang’s?”

Heymans shook his head, taking a drink of his black coffee. “The rumor is some Xingese official that she was hanging out with most of the time a month ago.” 

“That’s unlike her.” It was very unlike her. She was a reserved woman, one which upheld dignity and pride. To sleep around was a foreign concept to Hawkeye… or was it?

“Or it was planned?” Heymans leaned forward as he whispered the idea. 

“All about the conspiracies,” Jean joked, taking a short draw from his cig. “What if it is, what are we supposed to do about it?” He wished he could help, but he wasn’t even part of Mustang's department anymore. He had moved on to military intelligence. 

Heymans fell back into his chair, breaking his eyes from his best friend to look down the road. “I feel like we have to protect them.” He crossed his arms across his chest. “After everything, we all have been through and now we are sitting useless.” 

There was no argument there. Both of them had a deep trust and a deep sense of loyalty to Mustang and Hawkeye while working under them. The man was passionate and determined and it was a drive that his soldiers took with them. It wasn’t very often that your commanding officer was out to protect his officers and soldiers either. Jean grimaced as he remembered lying in the hospital bed, legs useless, and Mustang glaring at him with his dark eyes, furious that Jean would give up so easy. He cared deeply about his officers. Next to him was always his Riza Hawkeye. Mustang had no problem having people talk about him, but with Riza it was different. 

It always had been different. 

Jean dropped his cigarette on the ground, snuffing it out with his toe. “There’s nothing we can do,” he sighed. “I have no doubt that he’s going to protect her.” 

“He’s going to have to reassign her,” Heymans grumbled. 

He nodded. That was the only way it was going to work. “Maybe she will step down, finally retire.” Jean laughed, running his hand down his face. “Maybe they will finally get married.” 

His heavyset friend chuckled. “Most unlikely. They are in this together. Marriage would only complicate things.” He waved the idea off with a flick of his wrist. 

Jean stood up, sliding his mug to the center of the table. “I will look more into this Xingese official,” he nodded. “I can try to deter any rumors too.” 

“Must be nice to be an informant for the general.” Breda laughed lightly. “Out of uniform, whenever hours, and all you have to do is look around for suspicious activities.” 

Jean grinned ear to ear. “And working with all the ladies. I love it.” 

He laid a few bills on the counter and walked away from his friend. Heymans was right. Her integrity was blown. It was improper for women to have a child out of wedlock especially in the military, and the idea of Hawkeye to not even use protection was unfathomable. Out of anyone, and Jean meant everyone, she was the more responsible person he knew. She was a very close friend of his and the need to help her drove him mad. But how? 

He had to put it behind him. He had work to do, information to collect, and when he saw General Mustang in the morning, maybe he’d put his skills to the test and see if he could get him to talk. He started to chew at his lip as the thoughts gnawed at his brain. He could go around and see if anyone saw the general at her house, or if they frequented a certain area. That was easy enough. They lived in common areas but were known figures. If he casually asked around, people would be able to identify them and would more than likely admit information. For all he knew, they got a hotel room in another country. The two were smart like that. The idea that they were lovers had always been a conversation starter in the office when he was there. There was no doubt that the rumors had never stopped. They would have been foolish about anything like having an affair of some kind. 

Jean shook his head. He had to wonder if he did find out the truth if Mustang would get rid of him. It was either that or Mustang would get closer to him to watch him not to let it out. Maybe it’d be the opposite and Mustang would fork over all trust to Jean to keep their secret. The man helped train him in the ways of espionage and information gathering, Mustang couldn’t expect Jean not to find out. Jean had been from one end of the country to the other on someone else’s dime. And he spent a good part of his time in Central with Chris Mustang and the girls. He couldn't complain. General Mustang had given him quite a bit of leniency, did Jean really want to blow that?

He leaned against a corner and looked around. He was supposed to be tracking a smuggler, someone who was using a business downtown to sell drugs of some kind. Jean just had to find him and the store. But as he watched, his mind kept going back to how he felt about Hawkeye just sleeping with some Xingese official and how everyone would think about her after. It must hurt, he thought. And the fact that she could never really be with the father must make her feel lonely. Jean looked around again before pulling a cigarette from his pocket. She was going to go down with the ship. Not only that, but how did Roy feel? Jean lit his cig. He could never be part of his child’s life. If anything at all, Jean hoped that it was Roy Mustang’s, because her sleeping around didn’t sit well with him either. He couldn’t get it out of his head thinking that. It would have to be a political move, something to benefit Mustang in some way, but even then, getting pregnant wouldn’t make sense to make anyone look better in the Fuhrer’s eyes.

With movement out of the corner of his eye, a tall, thin man dressed in a plaid brown suit walked into a fabric store. He took in a deep breath of nicotine and blew it out really slowly. Straight ahead were two ladies walking casually down the street talking, and a pudgy man behind them who was waddling along while using his cane. There were so many characters in Central. This man really could be any of them. But he was looking for someone special. Someone with gelled back black hair and a thick mustache. He was looking for a man who ran the underground, burrowing tunnels under the city that harbored a group of ruffians. At least Jean told himself that. No, the man was a simpleton with a mustache who ran illegal drugs and sold them in a storefront. It was a small operation from all the information that he had gathered. It was an easy job that would take him only a few days. 

His mind rushed back to his friends. “I can’t even claim it as…” his mouth fell open, his cigarette nearly falling from his lips. He couldn’t claim it as his own. That wouldn’t hold up when the baby came out looking like the general, but he could marry her. That’d save her from being an single mother. He would even stay home and take care of the tyke while she still went to work for Mustang. That’d work! Jean scowled. Now he just needed to convince her. 

That was easier said than done. 

Maybe he could talk to Mustang about it. Mustang would persuade her far easier than he ever could. He could hear Hawkeye now. “I’m fine. I don’t need anyone’s help.” Jean sighed. She was right. She was independent and strong and powerful in her own sense. Even with a child, nothing was going to stop Riza Hawkeye. She didn’t  _ need  _ Jean Havoc. She didn’t need anyone. 

Jean’s shoulder slumped and he sighed, tapping the ash off his cigarette. She’d make him quit smoking too. “Maybe it wasn’t a good idea,” he mumbled. 

“What was?” 

Jean’s head snapped up and turned to the side to see the mentioned woman tilting her head with question. It was as if she knew he was thinking about her. “Sitting here,” he answered with a slight stutter. “I thought Jorgensen’s shop was around here. That’s all.” 

Hawkeye looked around with a nod. “It’s supposed to be, yes.” She held a grocery bag to her side as she looked around, her blonde bangs swaying side to side. He could see she was a bit pale, maybe dehydrated. There were dark circles under her eyes. Overall, she didn’t look like herself. The only part he recognized was the straight posture that she held, and Jean figured even at her worst, she’d be standing with honor of the blue uniform she wore.

Jean chewed on his cig, trying to calm his nerves and the blush that was seeping onto his cheeks. If he did marry her… He gulped. They’d be man and wife… and… 

“Are you okay?” Riza squinted at him. 

“What are you doing out of the office,” he quickly changed the subject. In the meantime, he’d reason a way to get a girlfriend. Realizing that he shouldn’t be smoking near her, he quickly put the cig out, snuffing it on the sidewalk. She wasn’t showing yet, that was a plus. The only way anyone would know was that she would have announced it. That was untactical of her to do so, unless it was in their tactics to do so. Jean shook the riddle from his head. 

“I went home early,” she said with a flat tone, as if it was no big deal. “I wasn’t feeling well and the general ordered me to go home.” Her bright blonde hair shimmered in the sun.

He wanted so badly to tell her he knew. She would have to know that he knew. “If you’re not feeling good, let me walk you home,” he offered, stepping forward. “It will help take my mind off things.” 

“Like what,” she asked. “What could Jean Havoc be so distracted by? You haven’t taken a fancy to one of Mustang’s girls, have you?” She raised her eyebrow, a dead give away that he’d be in some trouble if he had.

He laughed loudly and shook his head. “Just this and that.” He lied. He so lied. 

She fell in step next to him. “We really have appreciated your help lately. I know it must be hard not to be in the regular military anymore.” 

“Yes,” he sighed. “I’ve really thought about going back. I know the general will do his best to get my rank back and all that. I do get paid better though,” he snickered. “What’s been going on with you? We haven’t had the chance to talk in a while.” 

Riza tilted her head from side to side. “A little of this, a little of that.” She looked up to the sky. 

Jean couldn’t help it anymore. He bit his lip as he debated on how to word it. She wasn’t going to come out and tell him. That wasn’t her style. “I heard you were pregnant.” 

She chuckled and nodded. “I’m the talk of the town, aren’t I?”

He shook his head quickly, his blond hair swaying side to side. “Not at all. I talked to Lieutenant Breda.” Somehow he had no problem throwing his best friend under the trolly. 

She nodded again. “I won’t lie, I am.” She seemed calm about the whole thing, her brown eyes staring straight ahead, her step not breaking from its even stride. 

He went to make a joke about it being Mustang’s but stopped short. Maybe that wasn’t a bridge that was easily crossed.

“But I will be okay.” There was that independence. “I certainly never thought I deserved a child, but in this case, maybe it will be best I have one.” She looked up at Jean, her eyes softened. “It can grow up to make a better world than even I can hope and dream for it.” 

“That’s a healthy perspective,” he complimented, turning down a street with her. 

He could see her apartment, he’d been there before. His thumb fiddled with the lighter in his pocket and he fought all the thoughts running through his head. Who was he even supposed to talk to about this disastrous idea? Disastrous was correct too. This could backfire easily into his face. Mustang might relieve him of duty, Hawkeye taking a serious dislike to him, even avoiding him for the rest of his life, and the rest of his friends scoffing. He’d be the laughing stock of the military. 

“Would you like me to help you up the stairs,” he asked nervously, his hands beginning to sweat. 

“I’m not that far along,” she laughed. “But thank you, Havoc.”

He snorted a laugh. “Not very many call me that anymore. It’s hard to get used to when all of Mustang’s girls call me Jean.” Any other time in his life he would have not been trying to hold back a blush. Okay, there was when he first met her that he thought she was datable, but there was a sudden and permanent stop to that with a stern correction of a look from his lieutenant colonel at the time. Now, he had one crazy idea and that was all he could think of and it went against all instinct that had kept him alive in that office. “I suppose you can just call me Jean too.” 

She patted him on the shoulder in such a way that it was almost out of character for her. “That will be hard to get used to.” She opened the door to her apartment building. “Thank you for walking me here. It’s good to have company some days.” 

He nodded, squeezing his lighter tightly in his hand. “Yeah, anything you need. I’m always around.” 

“You’re supposed to be. Don’t forget to report your findings to the general on Friday. I think he’s looking to send you South next month. There was a skirmish on the border and there is a rumor it could have been intelligence from our men to give way to a fight.” 

“I can do that.” He nodded, giving a lazy salute.

He watched her enter the building before turning around. She did look a little sick and what Jean knew about the pregnancy, she was probably not holding much food down. He frowned. There was going to be an entirely different kind of Hawkeye soon. He snorted a sarcastic laugh. As if she wasn’t grouchy enough when paperwork was late, the general had more to fear. 

There was no determination about his idea, and after lunch, he was set on dismissing it altogether. It was unlikely anyone would go along with it. It wouldn’t break fraternization though. They weren’t in the same unit, let alone in the same department. It still would only bring controversy, no doubt. “Maybe it’d be better if we said it was mine,” he muttered, looking down at his feet while he walked. “There could be a chance that it’d come out blonde.” He still couldn’t get it out of his head. “This is stupid.” 

As he looked up, he saw his subject, walking out of a gift shop. The man didn’t even look his way as he turned to stroll right past Jean. He didn’t look over his shoulder as he whistled a tune and turned into the gift shop. There was a younger lady dusting in the corner, smiling at him and giving him a small wave. He waved back and turned to look over a few things. It was a great place to sell trinkets, sure, but drugs? Maybe he was stashing them in the vases, or in the little wooden boxes? That’d be too obvious. He walked around, keeping his hands in his pockets as he casually searched the place for anything...not obvious. 

“Can I help you find anything?” The lady of the shop was about Riza’s size, but flowing dark blonde hair to the mid of her back. Her bright brown eyes matched it and a gentle smile graced her lips. She looked too normal. 

He shook his head and grinned. “Just taking a look. Been waiting for my girl and I thought I’d come in and check the place out. How long has this been here?” 

“We just opened a few months ago,” she answered easily. “I’ve always wanted to open a shop. My brother in law decided to go halves with me.” She nodded to the shelf behind him. “Maybe your girlfriend would like some jewelry?” 

He chuckled. “I will have a look around. Maybe I will get her something.” 

The lady walked off and Jean frowned, turning back to his work. This could actually be the place. He should have followed the guy to see if he went anywhere else. However, the stuff only started to show up six months ago, so it was a great possibility. 

Jean picked out a keychain with the military emblem on it. “She’s from out of town,” he chuckled to the lady. “Maybe I can put the key to my apartment on there for her.” He grinned sheepishly as he paid for the keychain, put it in his pocket, and left the store. He wandered down the way the man went, now fiddling with the keychain, asking himself if he wanted another smoke. He wanted to see the man again, coming to or from somewhere. His surveillance skills were off because of Riza. He sighed. There she was, in his mind again. 

After a short walk around, he didn’t see the man again. He might have to wait sometime before the man frequented the store again. Until then, he could wander around and catch word on the street. That was always fun. Mustang used to do that in the mornings. That’s why he was normally late to the office. It was good just to know what was going on. Now that the man was a general, he didn’t have so much time for it and assigned the task to Jean. But that afternoon, there wasn’t much to hear, so he went home. 

He sat to write up a short report, dropping the keychain on his desk. His pen tapped on the table, a horrible habit that used to drive Riza up a wall. When did he start calling her Riza anyway? That was a weird thing. Besides his smoking, she was often telling him to “stop that!” when tapping his pen to some song’s tune. He grinned. Sometimes he’d do it with bets with the boys to see how long it took her to say it. Maybe he should confront the General about going back. Though it had been two years since the Promised Day and the near end of the world, he was finding himself a tad bored. He missed office antics the most. 

He ate dinner, looking at the phone. He could always call her, call Breda, call anyone and be like, “Hey… crazy idea but…” No, he had to get it out of his head. It wasn’t right and he knew it. But it was so right. He could always take her some soup. She’d probably shoo him away. He took a bit of his sandwich and sighed. 

“Wait!” His head snapped up and he almost dropped his hot sandwich on the plate. “Rebecca.” She and Hawkeye were close friends. If he was lucky, and to put his honed spy skills to the test, he wondered what information he could get out of Rebecca about the whole ordeal? He doubted she’d give him any information, but he might be able to get her support on this idea of his. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean asks Rebecca for help

Rebecca and he were pretty tight friends. He wasn’t close on any level with Riza. He didn’t shop or gossip the way girls did. There was a decent chance of her laughing her ass off at his idea, but she wouldn’t tell anyone. It’d end between them. Jean trusted Rebecca. He met her at the park while he tossed a piece of his sandwich bread to the birds. She was late and he wondered if she was going to show at all. He probably looked like the lonely man that he felt like. He needed more of a life, and as of late he’d been in a shallow dip of a depression. Maybe it was that he really didn’t have regular work hours but he was still feeling a bit overworked? Or maybe it was that it’d been a while since he’d been on a date. 

“You’re playing the intelligence officer role rather well. Do you practice this look?” Rebecca laughed as she sat down next to him. 

“Practice,” he laughed. “How are you?”

She leaned back on the bench, tossing her dark curly hair behind her. At one point, Jean had feelings for her too. “I’m tired! I can’t wait for this week to end!” 

“That good, eh?”

She hummed an acknowledgment. “Though, I will be honest, it’s been good to stay busy. My days are going by quicker.” 

“Unless I’m doing something important, I’m mostly just wandering around like a stalker.” Jean tossed another pinch of bread to the birds.

She shoved his shoulder with a laugh. “You’re funny. So, are we going to feed the pigeons while we talk, or can we grab a bite to eat? This is my lunch hour, ya know.” 

He raised the last bite of his sandwich. 

“You bastard,” she hissed. “You ate without me?” 

He grinned back at her playfully, before putting the last bit in his mouth. He hummed his appreciation for the food and rubbed his stomach. “So good,” he said with his mouthful. 

“Did you ever think that I didn’t date you because you’re an asshole?” 

“I thought you wouldn’t date me because I was one of Mustang’s dogs.” 

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re buying me lunch anyway. There’s this great seafood place just a block from here.” She got up and turned to lead him down the road. “General Mustang and Riza are heading down south next week,” she mentioned casually. 

“Yeah, I heard they want to send me down there to investigate some skirmish.” 

“From what I heard it was a more than a skirmish. Aeguro broke their treaty with us. There was rumor it was over a farmhouse.” 

“God,” Jean groaned, rolling his eyes. “A freaking farmhouse?”

“You know how it is down there. I wish they’d send me down though. I could use a tan!” She laughed quietly and nudged him with her shoulder. “I’m also surprised not to see you with a girl attached.” 

He shook his head. “She’d be a distraction from the mission,” he said as he used his fingers as quotation marks. 

He held the door for her and followed her to a seat by the window. “What do you know about Riza anyway?” 

“You’re the one fishing,” she giggled. “You think I’d tell you who the father is?” 

He shrugged nonchalantly. “I was hoping.” 

“She won’t even tell me.” She leaned against the table with her head in her palm. “Some things not even I get to hear.” 

“Do you think it was the Xing official in town?” He looked through the menu even though he wasn’t going to order anything but a beer. 

She watched the waiters go back and forth. “I’m not sure, to be honest. I have a feeling that she was either pregnant by that time, or that it was used to cover up something.” Funny because didn’t Breda think something similar?

It seemed that he didn’t need his learned skills after all. It was just going to be a casual conversation between them. “You think that she’d hang out and be close to an ambassador just to cover something up.” 

She nodded slowly. “It wasn’t like they were  _ that  _ close. She was a bit out of character the whole time.” 

“I didn’t get to see. I was out East with family.” 

“Lucky you.” Rebecca sighed, tucking a stray dark hair behind her ear. “She was glued to his side, making sure the guy had everything he needed. Then she went to the hotel with him a few times.” 

Jean raised his eyebrow. “Like, walked him to the hotel, or inside his room?” 

She shrugged. “That’s the thing. No one knows. She’d just disappear into the night.” 

Jean nodded slowly. 

“Nonetheless, she’s pregnant now, I hope you already knew.” 

He nodded again. 

The waiter came, with Rebecca already knowing what she was going to order. It left Jean with his thoughts, wondering why Riza would be sticking so close to an official like that? Rebecca was right, it was certainly suspicious. The hair on the back of his neck tickled. There was far too much suspicion, too many open ends, for this to be the truth. First, Riza definitely wasn’t one to sleep around like that, she had too much pride, and her loyalty to Mustang was rumored to be why she didn’t date to anyone’s knowledge. The only reason why she’d do anything of the sort was to advance Mustang’s career. 

“This could start quite the scandal,” he said quietly with a raised eyebrow. “I mean, General Mustang’s faithful dog sleeping with a political figure from another country. Do you think it could mean that Mustang is finally making his move? I know the Fuhrer is getting old enough to step down here soon.” 

“That old coot?” Rebecca laughed loudly. “He will die in that office. And even then, we’re not even sure if Mustang can even make it there. He might have to wait another round? The position would have to be handed down to him.” 

"Rumor has it that Grumman favors Mustang so it might actually happen.” 

Rebecca nodded and tilted her head from side to side. “Maybe.” 

He grinned slyly as a thought weaved its way in. “How do we know that Mustang wasn’t at the hotel too?”

“What are you saying?” She took a sip of her ice tea. “That it was a ruse for the two to get a night or two together?” 

Jean leaned back in his seat and nodded. “Word is that the kid is his, after all.” 

She nodded slowly, waving her finger at him, her brown eyes squinting. “You could be onto something.” 

“Oh come on! As if you didn’t think it!” 

“Oh! No, I’m certain that it’s Roy’s!” 

“We’re on a first-name basis are we?”

“Look, everyone knows how close they are,” she argued. “It’s always been the two of them. And now she’s pregnant? It’s obvious.” 

“What if they wanted to get pregnant?” He wondered quietly, sipping his beer. That would put a quick damper on his idea. 

“What do you mean?” 

“She told me that she was kind of happy that she was pregnant. If they used the official to cover it up, maybe they wanted a child.”

“Now you’re full of shit. She’d just step down and marry him.” Rebecca waved her hand at him. 

“Would she though? She’s like Grumman. She will die by his side.” 

Rebecca continued to sip her tea through the straw. He could see the gears spinning with the insinuation. 

“Look,” he said lowly as he cleared his throat. “I find it more odd that she’s okay with ruining her reputation like this. You know how it looks with her getting pregnant out of wedlock. Would it really be like Riza to raise a bastard? Even if it was Mustang’s? I mean, if they wanted one, I’d imagine that he’d want to claim it.” 

She shook her head, waving her finger at him again. “He wouldn’t anyway. It’d be a child that we all raised.” 

He nodded. “But her honor…” 

Rebecca went quiet and she bit her lip. “It’s very unlike Riza, you’re right.” 

“I have this idea. Hear me out.” 

She turned to look at him, her arms crossed in front of her. 

“If it’s Mustang’s or not, she can’t raise the kid on her own…” 

“Like hell, she can’t!” 

He raised a hand to stop the argument. “What if I married her?”

Rebecca froze, her mouth in her lap as she just stared at him. 

He swallowed nervously and looked around. “It’s a crazy idea-” 

“Crazy?” She started to laugh. “Jean…” 

“If she’s married, then her honor will at least be only slightly diminished. Then Mustang can avoid a scandal and everyone can be involved without suspicion. I can have him be the godfather and he will have more of an involved role in the child’s life.” 

“Like that'll ever happen!” 

“It’s going to look less suspicious, and there won't be any trouble when the real rumors start.” 

Rebecca squinted at him as she thought all this over. “What are you going to do about Roy?”

“That was something I was considering.” Jean scratched at his goatee. “It’s like going up to her dad and asking for her hand in marriage…” He took another drink of his beer. 

“And if it comes out with black hair?” 

He sighed. “Then it will… it’s going to be a bastard either way. But you and I both know she deserves someone to be there for her. Mustang can’t always be there like she needs.” 

“And when do you want to make this happen? As soon as possible I assume?” 

He nodded, watching the waiter put her scallop pasta in front of her. “I’m going to have to if it’s going to be done right.” 

She nodded slowly, biting her lip. “I don’t like it,” she huffed. “But I see where you’re coming from.” She poked at her leguinne. “What do you need from me.” 

“You have to tell me how to do this!” 

She laughed, covering her mouth. “Jean! You need a ring and some guts. Maybe some big ass balls. What are you going to do if she says no?” 

“I thought about that… And I don’t think there is anything that can be done. I can reason with her. Be honest…” 

“Tell her the plan,” Rebecca mumbled through the pasta. “Don’t propose to her. Just tell her your plan.” 

He nodded. Riza was blunt like that. “Should I even talk to Mustang?”

Rebecca stopped chewing before she started to chuckle. 

“You’re right, I’m probably safer avoiding him.” 

She shook her head. “I’m wondering if you’re safer having him on board.” 

Jean groaned as he watched the condensation on his beer glass. “He’s going to kill me.” 

“Maybe,” she said after she swallowed. “But I think the general will have more respect for you. You’re still looking out for him, even if you’re not part of the team like you used to be.” 

He nodded in agreement. “Still doesn’t mean that he won’t kill me.” 

“Can you at least put me in your will? I really like where your apartment is.” 

He rolled his eyes, running his hand through his blonde hair. “I have not smoked enough today. I think I’m going to need a whole pack before talking with Mustang.” 

“Look,” she said, twirling her fork. “You’re going to have to quit when you marry her anyway. You might as well stop now.” 

He groaned. There wasn’t a truer statement than that. 

“I did hear that Grumman has a granddaughter in the military. I’ve been trying to figure out who it is.” 

Jean’s mind switched gears with the new incoming gossip. 

“I’ve been through just about everyone’s file.” She giggled. 

“Do you have any ideas?” 

Rebecca quickly shook her head. “I’m still investigating. What do you have? What brilliant gossip does Jean Havoc have?” 

He sighed through his nose. “Nothing that interesting.” 

The conversation leveled out and they dropped the subject of Jean making a fool of himself until they got up to leave. Rebecca grabbed his arm, turning him to face him. “It was good knowing you,” she said seriously. She then laughed lightly and patted his shoulder. “If you need anything. Let me know. I always have a place you can hide.” 

He waved casually at her making her way back to her car. The joke was there, but so was the real threat. He now just had to get his former commanding officer on board. Maybe there was a chance that he could order Hawkeye to marry him. She could just move in with him, but that’d make the scandal more interesting. He had to wonder how long it even turned till there were rumors on the street. Mustang was a popular figure! The public loved him. 

How was he going to tell him of his plan though? He should just come out and say it. Maybe he should invite him to a quiet… no, it needed to be a public place. It needed to be so public that Mustang would have no choice but to go along with it. Then Jean was also going to have to pick a time that Riza wasn’t going to be with him. That was a more difficult time. His eyes lit up. “I can ask him to go out for drinks! Just to catch up!” He grinned, pumping his fist. But what to say?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know... it's slow going. But Jean has to cover all his bases. I like his relationship with Becca in this too. I think they would be a good team! And I do apologize for the shorter chapters. 
> 
> Now he has to go talk to Mustang.... 
> 
> Comments are welcome, and so are some kudos! Next week will be a doosy.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean goes to talk to Roy.

Jean did everything he could, including smoke nearly a whole pack, on his way to the bar to keep his hands steady when opening the door. It was a public place, lots of people, and there’d be enough alcohol for them to have a good time? Maybe a bar was a bad idea. He’d never seen Mustang violent when he was drunk, but there was always a chance. It was a well-lit bar, popular with the older crowd that would rather sit and talk than to dance and listen to loud music. A billiards table sat in the back, the balls cracking as they clashed together. There were peanuts on the bar and a nice looking bartender who gave him a beautiful smile on the way in. He happened to be quite fond of this place as he went there often before his life was turned upside down with paralyzed legs. 

“General,” he greeted as Mustang came in from behind him. “I barely beat you here.” 

Mustang snorted a laugh. “I tried waving to you.” He ran his hand through his black hair, letting it fall casually from his fingers. “You looked too focused on getting here to look around.” 

He was too distracted by his speech. “How's Hawkeye?” 

He watched as his former commanding officer shrugged and led them to a table. “I’m sure you have heard then.” 

“Everyone knows. She could have waited till she was at least showing.” Jean pulled his jacket off his shoulders. 

Mustang nodded and looked up at the waitress. “She’d been really sick.” 

“I saw her on the street. She was pretty pale.” 

“I’ve been damn near ordering her to stay home.” Mustang rubbed his forehead tiredly.

“I bet.” Jean leaned back in his seat, taking a moment to analyze his friend. The man looked like he’d grown older, eyes heavy as if he hadn’t gotten much sleep, and his hair long. It was always carefree but he never let it get too wild because he stressed looking somewhat professional. His shoulders were slumped and he took a long sigh as if it was the first time in days that he was able to relax. Surely the stress of being a general would wear anyone down, but this was a bit more than usual. “She’s pretty stubborn.” 

Mustang nodded and leaned back, raising his head to order himself a beer, Jean following. They met with casual talk, both of them making a solid point to not talk about work. He got more crap for not having a girlfriend through all his years under Mustang’s command that it held true to that day. Roy only jested though, telling him to go for the bartender. “It’s a quiet moment,” he said, “I thought I’d take some time for me.” It was a lie. Jean told him how his sisters were doing, and how ornery they were as women, while Mustang only laughed to say that’s why he didn’t go home much. For two friends, it was a nice way to just let themselves be. 

It was the calm before the proverbial storm. 

The tired general leaned back in his chair and smiled. “I needed this.” 

It was a pang of deep guilt for Jean to ruin it. Maybe there was another time to do this, but instead, he could hear Rebecca cackle a laugh in the back of his head calling him a sissy. “Hey,” he chuckled nervously. “I had an idea I wanted to run by you.” 

Mustang raised his eyebrow and tilted his head. “No, you can’t have a raise.” 

Jean laughed. “That’d be great too. But..” How else was he supposed to say this? “I want to marry Riza.” 

Mustang choked on his beer, a response Jean was readily prepared for. The man pounded his chest, bending over as he coughed loudly. “I’m sorry… what?” Mustang shook his head and looked back at Jean. “Did you just?” 

Jean gulped. 

“I hope you’re not asking my permission.” He looked stern, almost as if he’d tell him not only no, but to start running. 

“Not quite?” Jean put his beer onto the table. “It’s not like I love her or anything.” 

Roy nearly slammed his beer on the table. “You’re telling me you want to marry Captain Hawkeye and you don’t even love her?” 

Jean lowered his hand to tell Mustang to keep his tone lower. “She’s pregnant and it’s improper enough that she’s not married.” 

That shut the general up right away. His gaze turned to the bar and Jean saw his jaw set. For a moment, he could see the inner anger and regret he held. It was disheartening to see it. Maybe Mustang did want to make an honest woman out of her. 

“And if it’s yours-” 

“Stop right there,” Mustang said, using a deep voice that rumbled in his chest. His eyes grew hard, and Jean felt that he had no problem burning him, proverbial or literally, if Jean continued.

“Okay,” Jean said as he raised his hands. “No matter who it is, I’m sure we all want to be part of its life. If I married her, then I could secure a more… appropriate way for one to be with the child that wouldn’t arouse suspicion.” He turned his palms up as if offering the idea.

His friend’s jaw set again, adding a nose flare, and he looked from Jean again. He looked more serious now than ever before, and Jean had seen him pretty serious. 

“I’m thinking about talking it over with her, but I wanted you to know.” Jean picked his beer up, picking at the label with his thumb. “It’s to protect her.” He whispered. “It’s to protect you.” 

Mustang nodded slowly and sighed. “Chances are that she won’t go for it.” 

“That’s what everyone says.” 

After a long pause, and his gaze avoiding Jean, Roy sighed and nodded carefully. “My only want is for you to love her. You would be the luckiest man in the world.” There was a sudden softness in his dark eyes, almost a form of a tear in the corner. The general’s chest sunk and his hand reached up to run his fingers through his messy hair. It dawned on Jean what he was asking. It could be almost certain, with little to no doubt, the child was Mustang’s. By marrying Hawkeye, Mustang would never be able to hold her in his arms ever again. How was Jean supposed to be okay with that? Would he just allow that affair to continue while he raised their child? Jean’s chest pained. He wanted to think he’d do it. He wanted to believe that he’d do anything for them because their love was something deeper and stronger than anything Jean would ever believe that he’d know. What happened on the Promised Day changed them. Everyone saw it. 

The conversation was then over. Jean sat quietly, feeling the heaviness of the guilt on his shoulders. Mustang knew exactly what he was talking about. Mustang knew. Yet, he didn’t stop him for his own reasons. If he loved Riza that much, he could not only tell Jean no, but marry her himself and abandon all dreams. Maybe there was a deeper love and passion for her. Certainly Jean could look the other way while they did have their liaison. He didn’t even have to live with her., would he? He supposed they would have to in order for it to look real. That was maybe a conversation between the two of them. If she wanted to keep seeing Mustang, there certainly wouldn’t be any stopping her.

Honestly, Jean wasn’t even sure what he wanted in the relationship. It’d been about them the whole time and now, after a few days, he was realizing the actual needs and wants of himself. Sure, they’d be together, live in the same house, maybe have dinner together and raise a child. However, the idea of him only existing for the sake of being there somehow hurt him, and the idea that he would maybe  _ love  _ her was terrifying. He’d loved before, but marrying someone was something entirely on its own. That was a commitment that he took seriously. 

The two men talked about a “vacation” that Mustang was planning. He and Hawkeye were looking to go South to investigate the skirmish themselves. While he talked about it, Jean could see a twitch of a smile, his face softened and his breath became quiet. The man was in love. He talked about the duties they were hoping to accomplish, reopen peace talks with the other general from southern command. 

“Doesn’t sound like a vacation,” Jean said with a chuckle. 

“I’m not going to come back right away. I think I’m going to stay in the countryside for a few days and rest.” 

Jean wanted to ask about Riza being there with him, but it dawned on him rather quickly what was going on there. “I think it will be good for you,” he said instead. 

As they parted, Mustang said nothing but, “thank you for the drinks,” and left. Jean watched, reaching for a cigarette. Mustang looked defeated. The young general had maybe lost the game he had been fighting for so long because he grew careless. Jean put his hands in his pockets and wandered back home. He’d propose the idea after their retreat together. He figured it would be easy on both of them. 

Laying in bed, he stared at the ceiling. What he saw was something deeply personal. There was a wonder if Mustang even meant for Jean to even see that. The man had always been a wall, impervious and deceiving. Maybe Jean was the only one that was allowed to see it. At one point, he’d be willing to just blatantly point the two of them out, call them out on their secret, and maybe even give them a hard time. Maybe now he had matured past that point to where he understood where silence was needed. Not even this was something he could tell Rebecca. He’d have to hold this one close. 

The thoughts of what marriage would be like seeped in and out of his sleep. He never took Riza to be one of personal contact or even a hug. He’d seen her give hugs before and he knew she had a soft side, especially for the Elrics. However, it was a rare occasion. A pat on the arm or an offered tea was the extent of her sympathy notions. He’d seen her smile, heard her laugh, and never thought anything of it. But mostly, she was professional and that was it. However, he could clearly imagine her at home with him, even in the tiny 1-bedroom that he had, sitting on the couch and listening to the radio. Would he hug her? Would she hug him? He blushed red hot as the imagination of them kissing jumped out at him. That was going to be the most awkward experience, especially since it wasn’t like they were really in love. Other girls he had quite passionate nights with, but he’d never… Jean frowned. How would they make it work if it was to be worked out at all? 

He rolled onto his side, half hugging his pillow. It felt arranged in a way. Arranged marriages still existed and they worked out. The people had to make it work. So, they’d make it work right? But what if there was nothing to love? Well, he’d just move out, he thought. He could always have his life, and she could have hers. However, if he ever did find someone that he loved, he couldn’t marry them. Jean scratched his head. Now he was regretting his idea altogether. It would have been easier to just forget this from the start and admit that he makes bad decisions. 

Like a band-aid, he should just talk to her right away. Tell her that they better get one great fuck in while they could. No… that would make it heartless. He rolled over in bed. 

* * *

“I’m here to hand in my report to General Mustang.” 

The lady behind the desk shook her head and reached out to grab the report. “He is out this weekend. He said he was seeing some family or whatnot in the east.” 

He had no family in the east. 

Jean handed her the envelope and looked in the doors. Everyone seemed to be working efficiently without a care in the world. Two desks sat empty and he nodded. “Do you know when he will be back?” 

The lady shook her head, her curly grey hair swaying side to side. “He said Monday I think. It seemed rushed. He was quite in a hurry. He even refused an escort saying that his Captain knew the family and would want to be there for them. She’d be all the protection he needed.” 

Jean nodded slowly, scratching his blond goatee. “I see. It must be serious then.” 

“He is going for a week here shortly. If you need a meeting with him, it might have to wait. He has been really busy.” 

The lady was hired recently. She obviously didn’t know him and Jean wasn’t in uniform. Instead, he was wearing something casual, non-descriptive. He didn’t look like anything special. If Jean would have guessed, she was assigned to the position as soon as Riza had gotten sick…. Pregnant. Jean nodded and shrugged. “I will catch him later. He knows how to get a hold of me.” 

The older lady nodded politely. She looked down at the envelope. “I hope you have a good day, Mr. Havoc.” 

He grimaced. How he missed his title. Maybe there was a way to be a lieutenant in the information sector. If he wasn’t some undercover guy, it maybe could have worked out. He’d talk to Mustang about that later. He turned on his toe and walked back down the busy hallway, shoving his hands in his pockets. In his stomach, he had hoped that Hawkeye had been there. He just wanted to see her. He wanted her to look his way so he could smile at her and tell her it was going to be okay. She may not need him, and maybe this all started out as a way to keep her dignity intact, but… after that beer with the general, he felt that it was more than just that. He was going to protect her in ways Mustang was unable to do. Maybe it was a bad idea. He’d get attached, and he’d grow up to be a father figure when the real father figure was miles away. He felt like a bad guy. 

Still, he had to try. He had to find a way for her to … fall in love with him? Jean wanted to laugh out loud. How could anyone love him for this? Obviously, Mustang was okay with it or he’d put up more of a fight. However, he was asking for love for the act of separating two people who were meant for each other, no matter how good-intentioned it was. It wasn’t just marrying one of them, it was dividing the relationship they had completely.

“Hey!” 

Jean looked up and smiled at Rebecca. “Hey! How are you?”

“Walk with me.” 

Jean fell in step next to her as they paced slowly down the hall. She was up to something and Jean was very curious to what she was thinking. Rebecca was always thinking. He would guess that many men didn’t find her smart, but Jean knew otherwise. She was just as lethal as Riza, and observant in the matter that she saw everything including details that even would make Mustang shiver. 

“Did you talk to Mustang?” 

Jean nodded. 

“And you’re still alive!” She patted him on the back roughly. “Did you get a ring yet?” 

“I think I’m going to just sit down with her and talk it out with her.” 

Rebecca nodded and waved to someone passing by. “Are you sure you want to do this?” 

He laughed nervously. “No. Not really.” 

“Said every man before he got married.” She sighed loudly, shaking her head. “Tell me you have money to take care of her. Have you thought about a bigger apartment? Are you going to furnish it or have her do it, because her apartment barely has the essentials!” She crossed her arms. “You’re not going to make the  _ father _ pay for all the baby things, right? You better not, Havoc! I’ll come after you!” Now she was just there to give him a hard time. 

He raised his hand as he hushed her. “I will do what I can. I’m not even sure what she’s looking for. What if she doesn’t even want to move in with me?” He frowned. “I probably should get a two-bedroom so that I have somewhere to sleep. To top it off, she may not want me to take care of her at all.” 

Rebecca shook her head with a sigh. “All you soldiers think that she’s heartless and one-sided. But I assure you, if she does say yes, and she does marry you, she’s not going to just throw you around like a pillow. I would bet that she’d be out to take care of you too.” 

Jean grumped, looking from her. 

“Seriously! Look at… her current lover! He’s spoiled rotten.” He jabbed him in the side. “She does half his work for him,” she muttered under her breath to him. 

Jean flinched from the jab and grump again. “I have to kiss her,” he mumbled. 

“Is this what this gloom is about?” Rebecca stopped him and turned to face him. “How many girls have you kissed?” 

“I’ve kissed girls like you,” he corrected. 

“And Riza is inferior?” 

It wasn’t like that. “She’s my friend.” 

“I’m your friend, would you not kiss me.” 

Jean blushed madly, his eyes wide. “I-uh.” He’d thought about kissing her more than he wanted to ever admit. 

“Maybe you should let her kiss you.” Rebecca tilted her head. “You don’t seem like a sub, but I can see her as a dom.” 

“Will you stop it,” he whispered, annoyed that she was toying with him. “That thought itself is driving me more insane.” 

“Oh God,” Rebecca gasped. “You have to sleep with her…” 

“I do not!” He slapped his face with his hand. “I mean.” 

“This is bothering you too isn’t it!” Rebecca sighed and looked around. “She’s not going to make you do anything that you don’t want to do, and you shouldn’t feel pressured. But if this is what you’ve been worried about, you’re short minded.” 

Jean ran his fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp in hopes of ridding the oncoming headache named Rebecca. 

“This is the best part of my day!” 

“I hate you,” he muttered. 

“Should I buy you some condoms so you don’t get her pregnant?” 

“You are an awful friend. I’m telling her you said that.” 

Rebecca giggled away as they arrived at the doors. “The two of them went off to the East for whatever excuse they have this time.” 

“I’m not going to talk to her until she gets back from the South.” 

“Oh,” she nodded slowly. “That probably would be better. Now you just have two weeks of waiting.” 

He groaned loudly and opened the doors. “It will give me time to arrange my funeral. You said you wanted my apartment?” 

She nodded enthusiastically. “But really, Jean. Don’t be afraid of her.” She waved him off and continued down the hall like nothing had happened. She probably wasn’t even phased by the conversation. 

“Don’t be afraid of her,” he muttered. Easier said than done. With Mustang out of the way, all he had to do was ask his friend for her hand in marriage. All he now had to fear was rejection. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know... the talk wasn't long enough. I'm disappointed too. But Roy really had nothing to say. He knows Jean is right. But One thing I have enjoyed writing is Jean and Rebecca's relationship. Hehe. Let me know what you think? How is his conversation going to go with Riza? Do you think it's going to go as smoothly with Mustang, or is she going to lose her mind? 
> 
> I hope you all have a wonderful day. Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean presents his idea to Riza.

As if the weeks could not get any longer. Jean didn’t have the kind of money that Rebecca assumed, or hoped, that he had, but he had a savings account that could hold them over if need be. He knew Riza was quite thrifty but decided that he’d encourage her to save her money in case she ever “ran off with another man.” He went out and looked at other apartments, not that he was going to get one until she agreed, but he wanted to be prepared. It wasn’t like one girl, Tiffany, where he would give anything to run away with him. Granted, that girlfriend was short of being crazy like the finger stabbing Lust, but at the time, he would have done anything for her. With Riza, it was that he was unsure of what he could do for her. 

After conversing with Mustang once more, another gut-wrenching and emotional meeting, they decided to meet her at her place together. 

“This will work in our favor,” Mustang explained. “She will be more comfortable on her own ground. It’s easier to kick us out than feel trapped. Second, if I’m there, she’s less likely to say no. She’s going to want to talk to me…” Mustang stopped as he rubbed his forehead. “She’s going to want my approval.” 

Jean never imagined Riza wanting approval from anyone. 

“I’m going to let you do the talking. Stick to the facts.” 

The fact was that she was having Roy Mustang’s child and he was only going to be there so Mustang could still be part of the “family.” 

They arrived during midday on her day off. She brought them in and offered them tea. She served them a potato soup, something that Jean figured was something she was able to eat or was puked easily. Jean found out that she’d been pretty sick lately, but was happy that Mustang had granted her the ability to work from home. Hayate sat in the corner, wagging his tail as Jean reached out to scratch his ears. He squatted down, praising the dog and scratching the neck in a way for Hayate’s leg to reach up and shake. 

“Obviously you two wanted to talk to me,” she announced as she put the soup on the table. 

She was as observant as Rebecca claimed. Though sitting in front of food while discussing it may not be the best thing. Jean looked around the room, wondering if sitting closer to the trash can will be better for her. A surprise like this may not agree with her baby. 

Roy coughed, looked at Jean then back at her. His hands fiddled and he bit his lip. Mustang was compromised. Maybe it would have been better if he didn’t come. It was his idea, but Jean should have told him no just so that he didn’t have to hear, or see, the love of his life agree to someone else’s hand in marriage. 

Riza sat down, her curious look going back and forth from the Mustang to him, waiting for them to talk. He could tell she knew it was something serious. “Jean isn’t here to replace me is he?” 

Mustang chuckled, swallowing as he stared down at his soup. He took a deep breath to say something but Jean hurried to stop him. 

“I have this crazy idea,” Jean said firmly. “I mean, we all know that you’re pregnant, and we were…” 

Her head tilted to the side and her brows frowned. 

“There are…” How was he supposed to start? 

“Spit it out.” She said in a level, almost supporting tone. 

There wasn’t any other way to say it. “Marry me.” Jean’s heart stopped, his stomach tightened, and his hands sweated. 

“I’m sorry...what?”

“It’s improper for a woman to be pregnant and unmarried. Marry me so it’s proper.” 

“It’s not your child,” she quickly refuted. 

“It doesn’t have to be,” Jean quickly argued. “Look,” he took a deep breath. “Here’s the truth of it all. I’ve done a lot of thinking. Your honor as a woman, and as an officer in the general’s office, is tarnished by you having a baby outside of wedlock. This is going to prevent a scandal in the office!” His thumbs fumbled with each other. 

She didn’t say anything, letting him explain himself, though her skeptical look remained. 

He looked over to Mustang. “It might not be obvious to some, but to us few, we know it’s Mustang’s.” 

The two of them shot shocked looks at Jean.

Before they could say anything though, Jean continued. “Let’s be realistic for a minute. To have Mustang over all the time is going to be tricky, but with me, he can be closer to the child. We’d be just having a friend over.” 

Mustang’s head dropped back to his soup bowl and Riza looked towards Mustang. It looked complicated in her eyes, as if she was looking for approval, or maybe security in Mustang, however was also looking to give him comfort. 

“Nothing has to change. I mean, I’m just there to make it easier, to that there is no suspicion between the two of you.” 

“Everything will change, Havoc,” Mustang said quietly. “So much will change.” 

“Her getting pregnant changed things.” Jean sighed. “It will look better for everyone.” 

The room grew quiet and Jean went to say something else before Riza nodded. “He’s right,” she admitted. 

“I know he is,” Mustang agreed. “But…” 

Her hand reached out and fell upon the general's shaking hand. Suddenly Jean wanted to leave. He didn’t need to see this. His legs froze and his body felt heavy in the chair. The two sat in silence. It looked like Mustang was having a harder time of it. “Roy,” she whispered. Jean had never heard her call him Roy.“We can’t keep this up. It’s not just going to tarnish my reputation as an officer, but yours.” 

“I know,” Mustang’s voice shook, quivered as it came out. 

“We have to protect you,” she continued to comfort. “I’m still going to be there for you.” Her voice was soft, wispy as it comforted him. It was most likely a voice meant only for him. 

Jean quickly nodded though it seemed that he was invisible. He couldn’t move. 

His hand turned over and grabbed her gently. His thumb traced circles on her palm. 

“I get it,” she nodded slowly. “If this went one for any much longer, it’d pull you from running for Fuhrer. Grumman will have to look away from you because of your record. There are so many others that know, or think they know.” 

“I know,” he said again quietly. Mustang wouldn’t make eye contact with her, but instead just stared intensely at her palm. His dark eyes looked hazy as if his vision had blurred and he was tuning everything, including his sight, out. 

“This will put all that to rest.” 

He nodded as his hand grasped her's tight. 

“I can...uhm..” Jean looked towards the door, pointing to it casually. 

“That’s not necessary,” Mustang said through a cough. “I will leave things to you two.” He got up and scratched his nose, though Jean suspected that he was wiping a tear. 

He was about to argue when Mustang walked towards the door. He looked like he was dragging his body away. 

“I can let you two-” 

“No,” Mustang quickly argued. “It’s better this way.” 

“Wait,” Riza called out. 

He stopped and turned around. She quickly set about packing him some soup and put it in a paper bag. The whole time, the man stood there and watched her, his shoulders sagging and his eyes grieving. Jean watched her care for him. Rebecca was right after all. Riza was not the hardass that everyone thought of her. She was soft, caring, and she did care. Mustang put on his shoes, took the bag, and she stood next to him to peck him a kiss on the cheek. Jean would have sworn she said something in his ear too. He saw their foreheads meet and watched their mouths move, hummed murmurs of parting. It was too intimate for Jean’s eyes, yet he couldn’t look away. For years, lifetimes even, no one was supposed to ever see what he saw. It was forbidden for them to be that way even in proximity. It killed him. Jean hated himself. 

He watched as Mustang left, closing the door, and leaving the two of them alone. Jean didn’t even know what to say, let alone know how to process what he just saw. 

“I suspect that this should be done right away,” Riza cleared her throat and sat back down. 

“I guess that’s up to you, but the sooner the better for reputation sake.” Jean looked at his soup. “I’m not going to force you into this.” 

“You’re not. But I know exactly what you’re saying. We have to protect him. I have to protect him.” 

Jean nodded slowly. He looked away at the door before looking back at Riza. “What do you need of me.” 

She shook her head, looked around, and then bolted for the kitchen sink. Jean jumped up, rushing to her while she emptied what was in her stomach; bile. He wasn’t even sure what to do. Pat her back? Offer comforting words? The sink filled and he scrunched his nose at the smell. This was something he was going to have to deal with anyway, right? Yet, he sorely wished Mustang was there to help. 

“I got it,” she mumbled, blindly reaching for a rag. 

Jean grabbed one, handing it to her. It wouldn’t have made one difference or the next any other parts of their lives, but their fingers happened to brush. Jean noticed it instantly and watched those same fingers hold the towel tightly to her face. He suddenly wanted to hold that hand in his, tell her that it was going to be okay and that he was there when Mustang couldn’t be. 

“Thank you,” she coughed. “Apparently, the baby doesn’t like you.” 

He chuckled, lightly patting her back. “Are you okay?” What else was he supposed to say? He was already standing there, useless. 

She nodded. “I’m fine. I just need to eat some soup and crackers.” 

He stepped back as she sat carefully in her seat, still holding the rag to her face as she cleaned up. At least he had expected the baby not to like him. What was there to like? He had caused enough emotional damage between them all that Jean felt he was in a state of prison-like guilt. His heart pushed him on, though, telling him that his intentions were good and to believe in himself. 

“I don’t want a big wedding,” she said quietly as she took a bite of her cold soup. “A judge will do just fine.” 

He nodded, stepping back to his seat when he tripped over Hayate, the dog letting out a yap. “Sorry,” he quickly apologized to the dog. He reached down to pet the dog before carefully stepping over him to his seat. He looked up to see her looking at Hayate then back at her soup. He wanted to put her soup on the stove and warm it up for her. He wondered if Mustang should even be there. Would he want to see her like this? Has he seen her like this, so sick and fragile? 

“Something really simple,” she whispered. 

Jean reached into his pocket. He pulled out a golden band and handed it to her casually. “I can get one with a diamond if you’d like.” 

He watched as she took it, looking carefully at the band. She tipped it back and forth, watching the light shine off the gold plating. Her hands dropped to the table, her fist wrapping tightly around the ring as her body curved inward. Jean watched for the second time that night what he felt he shouldn’t have seen. She started crying. He reached over, nervously putting his hand on hers. There were the pregnancy hormones, he sighed to himself. But there was nothing to be said. What could ever do to make it better? He was certain that it wasn’t the person that she ever thought about receiving a ring from. It wasn’t the man that she’d probably dreamed of. What did she see in the ring that made her cry? Jean’s gut tightened. 

“It’s okay,” she sniffed. “No, it’s great.” She wiped her nose, then her eyes, as she looked up at him. Her brown eyes, swollen from puking and crying, still looked kind and thankful. The whole day was an eye-opener. He saw sides of both his friends that he never thought he’d ever seen. Though it had been a wave of feelings for him, it was a tsunami of sorrow for the two of them. 

“Next week?” 

She nodded. “Saturday, morning.” 

His hand squeezed hers before he took the ring from her hands. He carefully took her left hand, slipping the ring on her finger and holding his hand. “I would be happy to be your husband if you’ll have me.” At least he'd try to propose to her as he should.

She nodded slowly, yet gave no smile of joy. Instead, she stared at the ring as if surprised that it was on her finger, focusing on it sternly. 

“Uhm…” he looked around. “How do you want to work out living arrangements?” 

She looked around, studying her home. 

“You can stay here as long as you’d like.” He offered, letting go of her hand and sitting up. “You don’t have to move in with me so soon. I can look at apartments too. We can both move into one if you’d like.” 

She nodded, pulling her hands from his, and looked back at her soup. A silence fell between them. He couldn't make any of it better and part of him wanted to call the whole thing off. 

"I know you don't love me," he started to say quietly. 

She snickered. "I have always had a liking to you," she admitted. "I told Roy when we first met you that you were a good person and an invaluable member of our team. I was the one who really pushed for you to come on." She took a small sip of her soup, taking a moment before swallowing it as if she was waiting to see if she needed to go to the sink again. "You have been a great friend and the dedication and commitment to him have been … amazing." She smiled up at him. "I suppose there would be no other person but you to do this with." 

Jean nodded feeling a weight starting to lift from his shoulders. "I will do what I can to help and support you. You don't have to do this on your own."

"I'm fine," she sighed. "It was never going to be like that." She took another bite. 

He nervously picked at a nail, feeling the weight of his cigarettes in his pocket. "This is super awkward, but I’m curious…"

She looked up at him. Her hands shook. Was she nervous or scared? Or was it the emotions and hormones her body was suffering from? 

"What about sleeping together?" 

She nearly choked on her soup then started to laugh. "Of course that's what you're thinking about." 

"No," he quickly tried to explain. "I mean…" He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "I mean in the same bed."

She stopped eating, setting the spoon down carefully. "That is something we need to talk about." 

Jean gulped. He didn't really expect to sleep with her right away. He imagined it was damn near traumatic to have all this sprang on her so quickly. Just a week ago she was out on a getaway with Mustang, enjoying themselves, and now she was being requested to sleep with someone else. Even more, was the fact she was marrying someone so quickly. Was she ripping the bandaid off prematurely? Jean didn't want regrets. He didn't want her to mix him and Mustang up, though he somewhat expected it. He didn't want Mustang to hate him either but suspected that the man was already readying his transfer. Whatever made the change easier for her would work for him. Maybe they would learn to love each other, come together months from now when things had calmed down and the acceptance of the situation had settled in. Jean was afraid somehow of feeling used, and he didn’t want a relationship that was forced.

"There is a secret you must keep." 

He tilted his head. What was she talking about? He had kept it a secret that Mustang was going to Fuhrership, what deeper secret could it be?

"Somehow, Roy should be here…" Riza sighed and slid her soup from her and reached for a cracker. "There is… a transmutation formula tattooed into my back."

Jean's eyes grew. What did she say? 

"It can never be talked about and it's a secret that the general and I must die with." 

He nodded slowly, feeling the atmosphere grow serious. It had to be serious. The two of them had deeper darker secrets than he would have ever guessed.

"It's the formula to flame alchemy." 

Jean had been without words for most of this, now he was out of breath. 

"Roy scarred my back so that it can't be used, but…" He touched her shoulder. "If you don't want that responsibility, you don't have to do this." She looked up seriously at him. 

He shook his head. "I can keep your secret." He vowed, reaching out for her hand again. 

"My father tattooed it on my back to keep the formula safe. I gave it to Roy. After Ishval I wanted it burned so that there would never be another flame alchemist."

He chuckled humorlessly. "I'm guessing that is the short compressed version." 

She nodded and took a bite of the cracker.

Jean looked down, squeezing her hand. "I promise to die before the secret gets out." 

She just stared at the table before eating another cracker. "Why do you think I'm so willing to die by his side? It's just the two of us that knows." 

It did make sense now. So much more made sense now. He felt there was so much more to the story, so much that he might never know, and that he didn’t know if he wanted to know considering there was a burnt tattoo on her back. How was he supposed to get over something like that on its own? 

She stood up and walked to the sink, now washing it out and putting her soup bowl in it. She leaned against it and sighed. “You’d think that getting my throat cut would be the hardest thing to overcome in my life, but somehow I feel so much worse now.” 

Jean stood up, walking over to her to put a hand on the middle of her back. He wanted to tell her it was the pregnancy, but he knew the truth. He rubbed her back for a second and looked around the apartment, his eyes landing on her faithful hound. 

“Next Saturday.” She whispered to herself. 

“We can do this.” He pulled her into his chest. “We can do this.” Never had he seen her so vulnerable, nor did he ever want to see it again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It didn't go as bad as it could have, did it? And here you were worried! Well... except for Jean. He knows more than he should, doesn't he. I'm not a fan of marriage chapters. It's not that I don't like reading them... it's just like everyone has them. But, I assure you, there will be a wedding chapter. Just be patient. There are cute moments to be had. I hope that all of you have a wonderful day! YOU DESERVE IT. In the meantime, I'm going to have a nice cup of this lavander earl grey tea and watch The Office. Till next week! Stay well.


	5. Chapter 5

Jean had three whiskies before he even put his dress shirt on. Per his future wife, it’d be a casual dress and she only promised to be in a dress, but nothing special. It was not only too short of a notice, but the moment didn’t feel special. It wasn’t about them, but an underlying scheme to save a common friend. He wasn’t drinking because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t believe that he was going to do it. His shirt felt too tight, his mouth felt dry, his hearing dulled, and his skin sweated. 

Rebecca and Mustang were the only two invited, though Jean told the former team that they could have drinks after. As he loosened the tie around his neck, he thought about Riza going home early because she was sick. He also saw Roy taking her home. His stomach tightened and he reasoned with himself to be okay with it. It would compromise everything. In the back of his mind, he chided himself. Riza was not that kind of girl, and Roy wasn’t that kind of guy. He didn’t have anything to worry about. But then why was his gut tangled at the thought of her and Roy together on their wedding night?

Jean took another shot of whiskey and stared at himself in the mirror. Mustang was supposed to be there but Jean understood why he wasn’t. He wasn’t sure where he was, maybe smoking outside. Thinking about nicotine, Jean reached in his pocket to find his cigarettes gone. “Fuck,” he groaned. He searched the little room but couldn’t find any. It wasn’t like he could smoke anyway, that was a habit that was going to have to go away. It still didn’t mean that he didn’t want one. 

“What are you looking for,” Mustang greeted him in the doorway as he looked under a chair. 

Jean looked up and sighed dramatically. 

Mustang looked well with a jacket and tie, but nothing special as promised. He didn’t have his hair slicked back, or even looked shaved. Surprisingly enough, he didn’t look bad either. His shoulders were square and his posture firm. He leaned against the doorway, crossing his feet, and gave a sideways grin. 

“I’m looking for my cigarettes,” he groaned louder as he stood up. “You don’t happen to have a pack or at least one on you, do you?” 

Mustang shook his head, lifting himself from the doorway. 

“Is this where you come in and threaten me in some way,” Jean chuckled nervously. 

“No,” the man said simply. “Just here to remind you to make her happy for me.” 

He nodded, understanding there was still an underlying threat in the message. 

Mustang walked over to the open bottle of whiskey, picking it up and examining it. “Really? You had to be drinking this on your wedding day?” 

“It’s not like I’m dressing fancy,” Jean smarted back. “I don’t have to drink fancy either.” 

His friend laughed as he lifted the bottle and gulped down a swig. He hummed an approval and set the bottle back down. 

“Is there anything I should know about before I say yes?” 

Mustang scratched his cheek, shaking his head. “She likes dark chocolate over milk.” He snorted a laugh. “She loves early mornings, red wine, and she likes mystery novels.” 

“That’s not weird,” Jean raised his eyebrow. 

“I won’t tell you where she’s ticklish, you will have to find that out for yourself.” 

He shivered. “That’s not weirder.” Maybe Roy was drunker than Jean had originally anticipated.

Roy smirked as he sat down in the chair next to the window. Jean was starting to see the glaze over his eyes. He thought he’d see a long lost smile, a drifting of lost happiness just out of Mustang’s reach forlorn in his gaze, but instead, he just saw a man who was tired. That was all. 

He looked at himself in the mirror, adjusting the tie for an umpteeth time.

“We better get going,” Mustang announced, pulling himself from the chair with a huff. “You don’t want to be late. We both know how she feels about that.” He slapped his hand on Jean’s back and headed for the door. 

It felt even odder that they didn’t have some honeymoon planned, or a hotel room that was waiting for them at the end of the day. Maybe he should have planned something a little special for them to go and get to know one another. It would be good for the two to make it about each other in the end. As he walked across the street to the courthouse, he wondered if Mustang would give him time off, her time off, and let them go West for a few days. He could take her horseback riding through the forest, they could spend the day drinking that red wine Mustang mentioned, and staying up late to look at the stars in the dark sky. 

It’d have to wait. 

The courtroom was small. He was early. He gulped what saliva he had in his dry mouth and bounced anxiously on his ankles. He watched Mustang, in his stern and serious face, examine the room. It wasn’t even that Jean wanted him there. If Jean would have thought about it more, he would have asked if it was a good idea being that it wasn’t their wedding night but his? But Mustang nodded quickly at the date and said he’d be there to support both of them without a second thought. How could he turn him down? His chest ached as he thought about how Mustang was going to watch Riza walk down the aisle to Jean instead of to himself. Jean wasn’t sure if he could ever take that kind of pain. He had no idea how Mustang was even holding himself together. From the man who he saw in Riza’s apartment just under a week ago, who was so broken, to a man who stood straight and remained professional in the utmost sense. 

Jean looked over to see the doors open and a summer dressed Riza Hawkeye walked into the room. She looked beautiful. He should consider himself lucky she wasn't getting married in her uniform. He had seen her in dresses before, numerous times, but this time did seem different. This time the lighting was just right, or some phenomenon, to which she seemed to glow. He licked his bottom lip softly, stood a bit taller, and waited for her to make her way up to him. Her summer dress was a soft blue color, a necklace around her neck and he noticed that she had on a gold chain bracelet. She wasn’t in high heels, but rather something flat, but held herself high like the rest of them. Even Rebecca, who followed along behind Riza was not slouched. 

They said simple vows, rings placed on fingers, and then the kiss. Jean didn’t think he could do it. Since he watched her walk to him, he wasn’t sure he could do it. Mustang was right there. Just knowing that his friend was watching him kiss his lover had to be the nail on the coffin. It didn’t have to be passionate, but it couldn’t be just a peck either. While he looked at her, she didn’t seem bothered by it in the least, while he was going to need a new shirt for the reception. 

“You may kiss the bride,” the judge said. 

He had kissed before. It shouldn’t have been this hard! His lips felt chapped and he suddenly had performance anxiety. Her hands were consciously placed on his chest and he swallowed. His hands on her hips felt like they were on forbidden ground. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. His muscles stayed put for a second too long. He had to do it. There was no avoiding it. He had to kiss Riza. It was just like any other time, he told himself. He closed his eyes and leaned down. 

It was different. Jean wasn’t sure if he could explain it properly, but the second their lips met, his anxiety went away. His lips swept across hers. They were soft like satin, cool like a breeze, and light like a cloud. It wasn’t what he was expecting at all. He felt her sigh as they parted and he opened his eyes to see her blush. He’d never seen her blush before. Her brown eyes had a dark redwood look. They were less intense, less focused. He could only wonder if she was feeling the same. He smiled down at her, wanting to tell her he’d hold the world for her. Fake marriage, arranged marriage, whatever they wanted to call it, he was going to be there for her and her baby. She smiled back and for another second everything felt ...right.

He resisted licking his lips as he turned to feel Mustang slap his back and reach in to shake his hand. Jean didn't expect the man to look so happy, joyful even. He said some words of encouragement or something along the line, but Jean couldn’t hear him. He couldn’t hear anything. He was still feeling her lips on his. It wasn’t until Mustang brushed past him and hugged Riza, placing a peck on her temple that Jean broke from his daydream and high fived Rebecca. 

“Now for that party,” Mustang rang out. 

* * *

There was far too much alcohol and not enough cake. Though there was cake. The gang did try their best to make it as real as possible even if Jean felt it was all made up. It wasn’t, he told himself. It was real. There was nothing about the situation or the vows, that was fake. He was married. Furthermore, he wanted to try to make it work. He was caught in what he thought was a fake marriage, wanting it to feel like a real marriage so that he could at least try to make it work out in his head. He couldn’t get the kiss out of his mind. Jean wanted to see her smile, that gentle and reassuring smile, from their kiss. 

Heymans grabbed him around the shoulders, shoving a beer in his chest. "Quit looking so gloomy, it's your wedding night!" 

Jean laughed, leaning into his friend. "It's all a ruse," he slurred slightly. He looked around to see the party going on around him. 

"It is not." Heymans poked him in the chest. "You love her enough to sacrifice your life to spend it with her. You're doing this just out of the kindness out of your heart. You have to love her some." 

He wasn't wrong. Jean did love her, but he never  _ loved _ her like that. They had been comrades, friends with a deeply ingrained sense of trust. He loved her enough to appreciate her in that sense. He could trust her without another thought. In return, he was willing to try and help her, so that she didn't look so bad, that some of her integrity would be intact as an officer and a woman. Even if it was tarnished, he was willing to polish it for her. That's what it was really about. So maybe Heymans was right. Maybe he did love her. 

"This," Heymans panned his hand over the crowd, "is for you two. You can think it's fake, and that it's just you being a nice guy, but I know that you love her." 

Jean looked at the ground. His mind tried to wrap itself over the concept of what love was and in what definition it was being used. "Does she love me though?" In that context, it was not in a brotherhood type of way. 

Heymans shrugged, turning to lean against the bar. “She will. It’s hard getting over someone you have been for years. I still can’t believe that you’re doing this. I still can’t believe that she said yes!” He punched Jean in the shoulder.

He chuckled as he flinched, taking another sip of his beer as if that would make him feel any better. Breda was acting as if there was something to celebrate. Sure, the celebration was for the two of them, but they were only marrying to lessen a scandal. In reality, his guilt for separating the two of them lingered heavily in his chest. If he would have never seen Mustang break down the way he did, or hear Riza call him Roy, he’d imagine that he’d feel better about the whole thing. Instead, he saw how volatile the two were. He saw them as humans.

“Look, you have known for years, and she’s known you. I mean, you worked together, did missions together, you two have always been close.” 

“I don’t want it to feel forced.” Jean wished it out loud. If he was going to marry anyone, he wished it was because she wanted to, not because this was the best choice to save her lover from ungodly rumors. 

They waved at Kain who was walking up to them. “I think it’s going to feel that way in the beginning, but it will fall in place.” 

“God,” he rubbed his forehead. “I have to sleep with her!” 

“Maybe this wasn’t the part of the conversation I wanted to hear.” Kain’s eyes grew big and he stopped in his step. 

“Have you ever thought about sleeping with her?” 

Heymans took a swig of his beer. “Are you talking about sex or just passing out in the same bed?” 

Jean stared blankly at his friend. Passing out in bed was a big one, let alone having sex with her. He had to lay in the same bed as her and not wake up with … Jean grumped inside his head. It was going to be so awkward! Then he had the lovely thoughts of her wanting Mustang next to her more than him. 

Heymans and Kain looked at each other. “Like fantasy, or just in passing?” Heymans raised his eyebrow. “I mean, she’s attractive, sure, and making her off-limits makes it harder…” 

Jean facepalmed. 

“You’ve never thought about that?” 

“This conversation just got weird,” Kain mumbled. 

“I’ve thought about it, but not in like detail. Now I have to be her husband. I mean…” Jean looked at his beer, watching the condensation drip. “It’s so much more complicated than I think you think it is. She won’t want to have sex with me, let alone sleep in the same bed.”

Kain raised his hand at the bar to order another drink. “You know, I think she’s capable of love beyond sex.” The young man looked straight at the two other members with a serious face. “She basically lives with all of us but cares deeply for each one of us.” He shrugged. “Whatever happens, happens. But I’m pretty sure being in the same bed with her is going to be the least of your problems.” 

It was the best advice he’d heard, and a thought that had been in his mind for over a week; both topics. Over the last couple weeks, he’d been really thinking about their relationship anyway and he wondered if she didn’t want him at all, and only wanted to be with Mustang, what he’d do? “What if she still wants to sleep with…” His voice trailed off but his eyes landed on Mustang who was talking adamantly with Falman. 

The two other men grew silent. “You can’t be in a relationship like this and expect her…” Heymans hummed as he stopped his thought. 

“I’m doing this for them. I’m doing this so that they can still have a relationship, right?” He set his beer down on the counter, sighing heavily, and dropped his head into his hands. 

“You’re going to be there when the general can’t,” Heymans whispered, leaning over his friend. “She’s going to see that. If in a year, it’s really not working and you two can’t be roommates like that, then get divorced. You can't reevaluate everything until after the baby is born.” 

He just had to make it until the baby was born. He ordered another round of shots for him, Heymans, and Kain. He was already nearing his max and was feeling wobbly. Thankfully, they cut the cake early on because he was pretty sure that he’d make a mess of that now. All that was left was the dance. Of course, by this point, his confidence had somewhat risen. He was going to dance with her and he was going to make sure that she had a good time. Not that she wasn’t having a good time. She had made a few friends and been hanging mostly with Maria and Rebecca. She held a soda in hand, as she curled a stray hair behind her ear. He watched her, wondering what she was thinking about. He wondered if she was avoiding Mustang on purpose. He tilted his head as she laughed. Her head fell back and she turned her head to him. There was this second which caught his breath in which she smiled right at him, with direct eye contact. It was for him. The smile and glint in those eyes were for him. His chest puffed out and he stood up straight. It was time for a dance. 

Jean walked over to her, pressing through the customers with his eyes never leaving the back of her blonde head. He put his arm around her, leaning close to her. “Dance with me,” he whispered in her ear. He was sure he smelled drunk, and it was completely unsuave of him to do, but it was already done and he stood proudly behind her. 

Riza turned, giggling a little, and held out her hand. “I hope you know how to dance.” 

He shook his head with a wide grin. “I mean, I can, but not in this drunken state.” He chuckled. “You will have to lead.” 

She grabbed his hand and stepped beside him. “Let’s go then.” She must have been having a fun time. It was either that or she was playing her part rather well. No, he thought with a grin as the alcohol made its influence. She really did like him. 

Surprisingly, she fell in step with him and let him sway her side by side. Thankfully it was nothing too complicated and the song was slow. It must have looked like a high school prom dance though. It was all he could do to look okay to the watching crowd. He felt her head to meet his shoulder and he felt her hot breath on his chest. It’d been five hours, and both had been celebrating. He was drunk and there was a good assumption she was tired. He hadn’t seen her eat much, probably because of the baby, but also hadn’t seen her rushing off to the bathroom. 

“Are you okay,” he whispered to her. 

“Tired,” she confirmed. 

“Would you like to go home?” 

She nodded. “I could sleep ten hours.” 

He chuckled, “Which home? You have two to choose from.” 

She looked up at him as she hummed. “Who has a bigger bed?” 

Jean grinned. “I have a couch, so we can go there.” 

She patted his shoulder with a chuckle. 

“How are you doing?” He whispered closer to her ear. “Are you still okay without him?” 

“Roy and I will be fine.” She quickly answered. “It’s not like we had a long going affair.” 

“It still must hurt,” he said as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in closer. 

“We must do what we can for each other and this is what we can do for him. Sometimes he needs protecting from himself.” 

“Is he going to be okay?” 

Her thumbs rubbed the side of his neck. “He will be fine. I’m not worried about him.” 

Jean chuckled as her touch tickled him. “Have you eaten anything?” 

“I had some peanuts,” she whispered. It almost sounded like she was guilty of it, or guilty of not eating anything. 

“You need to eat something.” He looked around. “What do you want to eat? We can stop in the cab and get it.” 

Riza instantly sighed. “I want a pastrami sandwich,” she admitted. “But I know that’s not going to go down well.” 

He didn’t have much to eat at home. He didn’t think that far ahead. He had a bottle of milk, some bread and jelly… That might work. “I have some bread and butter, maybe some jelly?” He laughed at himself. “I mean, I have food, just not… marriage food I suppose.” 

She patted his shoulder. “I think that will do just fine. 

“Come on,” he said, “let’s find you some food.” He kissed her temple and held her hand as they stepped off the floor. He squeezed it, knowing the implications of them leaving. He worried that she was fretting it too. It was something that had suffocated the back of his mind, a constant ping, of anxiety to think of the two in the same bed. He had to get over it. They’d work things out eventually and if they ended up being a couple that slept in different rooms, then so be it. But it still sat there, chipping away at him to think that he’d eventually fall in love with her. The whole wedding concept was still making him a nervous wreck, and she was holding it together the whole time. Thankfully, as they walked through the crowd, everyone hugged them and said a simple goodbye. Heymans called them a cab on the bar phone and he let her mingle a little longer, watching her give Mustang a long hug, then whispering something together. 

They stopped outside, Rebecca pushing through them. “Hold on,” she waved at them. “Don’t forget your bag, Riza.” 

She let go of Jean’s hand and he watched as they rounded the corner to the parking lot. He swayed, reaching into his pocket for a cigarette. He’d gotten a pack on their way to the party and had already smoked half of it, outside the bar for her safety. He might have time to get one more down before the real anxiety kicked in. He put one between his lips, lighting the tip, and taking a long steady draw in. It felt good in his lungs, instantly bringing him calm. He blew out the smoke, watching it dissipate through the night sky, and bit the corner of his lip. At least he had a couch. His bed was against the wall, and he had a good blanket on it. He’d cleaned the sheets and picked up his room just in case. He’d start looking for a bigger apartment for them on Monday. 

Riza and Rebecca came around the corner, Riza holding a duffle bag over her shoulder. He half expected Rebecca to yell out something about condoms to him, but she instead smiled at him and waved them off as he opened the door to their waiting cab. He held the door open for her, helping her. He might be pretty drunk, but he was still going to be a gentleman. As he got into the cab, her hand reached out to grab his. It was a different hold than the one of him leading her from the bar. He could finally feel her anxiety. Her hand sweated against his and she tightened her hold almost as if she was fighting a shake. Her body was tense as he could see the rigidity of her form. It was only proving his thesis that it was just as hard on her, if not worse. She’d just given up her independent life, just like that. He meant she was still going to be independent, but not in the sense that she lived. He had to scowl at himself for thinking that he was having it hard. 

He squeezed her hand back, offering a comforting smile. He wanted to tell her that she wasn’t obligated to anything, but his voice wouldn’t come to him. He wanted to say that everything was going to be okay and that they could figure everything out tomorrow. The effects of liquor were heavy on his body. The whole ride he was doing everything he could do to keep from swaying. Like most drunken parties, the alcohol only intensified as his body processed it. He wasn’t afraid of puking, not yet, but he was still worried of making a fool of himself. She was completely sober. She was going to remember everything, and maybe more! This was their first night together and he was going to be too drunk to even remember anything. 

They pulled up to his apartment and he quickly made a joke that she might have to carry him over the threshold. She laughed and waved him up the stairs. He followed, holding tightly on the railing. He’d just sleep on the couch. It’d be fine. There was a quilt his mom made him last year that would work, it wasn’t too cold outside. He opened the door for her and they stood there for a second, looking at the doorway. 

“So,” she said slowly. 

“So,” he followed. After a few seconds, he decided he was going to go for it. If Riza wasn’t going to shove him away and tell him off, he was going to do the traditional husband thing. He grabbed her, pulling her close to him and stepped into the doorway. 

“You let me down,” she laughed. 

He laughed with her, setting her down carefully. “What? You weren’t going to go in on your own!” 

She only smiled back at him, brushing down her dress and holding her bag. Her smile only told him that she actually enjoyed his little antics and he had to wonder if she had always enjoyed his office stunts? 

Jean grinned and leaned against the wall as he waved to his apartment. “There you go.” 

It was small, sure, but it had a couch and a radio, a dining table, and a small kitchen. His bedroom was off to the side and a common area bathroom. Honestly, it wasn’t much different from hers beside the couch and coffee table. He also had a shelf with a few books on it, a signed baseball, a magazine on the coffee table. She looked around and nodded. “Bigger than what I thought.” 

“It’s got a good view,” he mumbled. He pointed to the window. At least that, right? He pushed himself off of the wall, regretting it for a second as he regained his balance. 

She nodded and walked in timidly. Her eyes scanned it like she would a wide area for her targets. 

“Here,” he showed her to the bedroom. “You can stay here, I will sleep on the couch.” 

“I think that I will be just fine sharing a bed with you.” She put her bag down with a light laugh. “The general and I were sharing a bed before we started…” She put her hand on her stomach. 

Jean scratched his arm nervously, letting the silence speak for itself. “Well,” he finally said. “I can sleep on the couch. I think it’s more me than you.” 

She raised her eyebrow and turned to look at him. 

“It’s hard to explain,” he began, he scratched on his arm a little rougher. “I um…” 

Riza nodded slowly. “I guess we both have new boundaries we have much to adapt to.” 

He turned sharply and led her into the kitchen. “Let’s get you some bread and jam. Would a glass of milk help you too?” 

Both went down easily as they talked about her going to work on Monday. The next morning he’d drive her home and they’d figure out where they were going to stay until they’d gotten a bigger apartment. She was easier to talk to then, he thought. Though she was direct, she was compromising and thoughtful. They decided to move closer to the market. There was a park just a few blocks from there that they could walk Hayate at. As much as they wanted a high apartment, she decided that it’d be easier to have one on the base floor so that she didn’t have to climb stairs later in the last trimester. She was always thinking ahead. It wasn’t that he never did that. He was constantly thinking ahead, but she thought in detail. He told her that they could go after work next week if she’d like and that there was no rush on his end. 

“Are you sure,” she asked as she stood in the doorway? 

He looked at her, tired but smiling. It was still comforting to know that she wasn’t as a mess as he was, and if she was, she didn’t show it. 

“I’m sure,” he waved her off, falling onto the couch. 

“I won’t be offended. I’m not big enough to push you off,” she joked. 

“No,” he waved his hand. “I don’t…” he bit his lip, trying to think of the right words. “I will be here when you wake up.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... It's kinda a day late-ish. I got busy trying to decipher which variance was needed for my presentation, or which one is which in that matter. I have them... just don't know which ones they are. HAHA. So? Still interested? Maybe they are both going to make this work! Granted... I think Jean is a sentimental type of guy. I'm sure that kiss is going to stick with him for a few days. Keep his blood hot. Haha. And he still remains the gentleman! At some point, he's going to have to get over that... right?
> 
> Leave me a comment! I'd like to meet my readers! Thank you for being a reader, and have a fantastic day!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean and Riza move into their new apartment

Finding an apartment wasn’t the hard part. The hard part was moving into it. He refused to let her help, which started their first argument. Might as well get that out of the way, he thought. After a few more grumps from her, he called Mustang. It was just going to get more and more awkward as he had to ask for help from the father of the baby in the woman that he married. Mustang agreed though, not without giving him a hard time, and made it down to them at the end of the day. 

“You can’t be lifting,” Mustang took Jean’s side. 

She glared at the two of them. “I’m not that far along and I’m not going to be useless!” 

The black-haired general shook his head. “You can take the dishes in and unload them. We got the couch and bed.” 

The bed. He went out of his way to buy a bigger one. He wasn’t sure why except that they were shopping together and it was going to be more awkward buying a small mattress when your newlywed wife was standing beside you. They’d make it work. He and Mustang wiggled it through the doorway and stumbled into the bedroom at the end of the hall. Jean grimaced. He had no idea how the man was okay with toting in a bed that some other man was going to sleep on it, let alone a man with Riza. Jean shook the thought out of his head. Mustang would be growling at any man, let alone Jean, for sleeping with her. Thankfully Mustang didn’t give him a threatening look. The man kept a straight face through it all, helping where he could. However, Jean insisted on putting the bed together later. He wouldn’t ask Mustang to help to build the bed that he’d cuddle her in, kissing her and telling her... Jean needed to get his head out of the gutter.

“Hawkeye,” Mustang asked as he came from the hallway. “Where do you want the couch?” 

Black Hayate bounced from one end of the area to the next, sniffing out the ends of the apartment. 

She stopped putting the dishes away and looked in the large living room. “I guess on that wall,” she said as she pointed. “I have that plant that can go over there.” She pointed to the other corner. “That looks right, right?” 

Jean came up behind Mustang, watching how the man nodded and put his hands on his hips. Hayate flew by him going towards his owner. He couldn’t help but wonder if this moment was something they had both dreamed about. He walked ahead to go out the door and Jean watched as she followed, a hand touching the middle of Mustang’s back as he passed her. He wasn’t sure what to think. He should have never asked Mustang to help. It would only carve that hurt deeper knowing that they could not have this, could never have it. Maybe that was his fault now? Maybe he had stepped in and took it all away. 

“Havoc! Come help me with this!” 

Jean jumped in his step and hurried out the door, Hayate following him in a bounce. He handed Riza another box before helping Roy with the couch. They wiggled it inside, carefully sailing through the sea of boxes, to the wall that Riza wanted it on. He brushed off his knees and looked around. Mustang instantly went back outside to grab more things and left him to the room again. All of it continued to feel unreal. He needed to get a second bed to sleep in the second room. Heymans had made a good point. They’d be roommates. He rolled his shoulders. A week on the couch had not treated him so well, but it made him more comfortable. 

He had tried to sleep with her. He went to the bed, watched her climb in and face the wall. He didn’t have to cuddle her or hold her, though he wanted to on the inside. All he could imagine was Mustang with her. He couldn’t get it out of his head. He’d be a source of warmth that someone else was supposed to be. The more his head played with him, the more he distanced himself from her. When she was home, he did what he could, and helped her cook, helped her with everything she needed, but when it came time to retire, he settled on the couch. He didn’t even want to touch her. He didn’t want to be a replacement, or viewed as an intruder, even if he felt like one. 

Jean walked out of the house, seeing Mustang pull another box from the little truck they were borrowing. Hayate sat in the back, wagging his tail at the two as if he was helping. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I shouldn’t have asked you for help.”

Mustang set the box down and rolled his shoulders. “What do you mean?” 

“This has to be hard,” he explained. “I can only think that this is what you wanted, and you have to watch me do it.” 

Mustang leaned against the vehicle and sighed loudly. Jean could tell that Mustang was avoiding even bringing it up, let alone talking about it. 

Jean reached into his pocket and pulled out a cig. “It is, isn’t it.” He lit the cig between his lips, taking in a draw. “I’m sorry,” he kicked a small rock on the sidewalk. “I have been feeling bad these last few days.” 

“Don’t be,” Mustang immediately said. “We don’t deserve any of this.” The man waved a circle around the apartment, generalizing the whole scene. 

“That doesn’t mean that you didn’t want it.” 

“No.” He ran his hand through his black hair. “And maybe we did, but we always knew that we couldn’t.” 

Jean took another drag from his cigarette and looked towards the door. Hayate jumped off the back of the truck and wandered on the grass. He watched him sniff around before lazily making his way back inside. 

“What we did… we don’t even deserve your help and love. We surely don’t deserve a child.” He nodded towards the apartment. “To see her happy, even if it’s not with me, makes me feel a little better.” 

Jean breathed in a heavy puff of smoke, letting it sit in his lungs for a second before blowing it out. “Are you telling me that if you ever had the chance of moving in with her and being normal for once-”

Mustang shook his head. “It’d never happen. You know what we want. You know where I must go, Havoc. If that means that we never have a normal life, we are both ready to accept that.” 

Jean kicked at the sidewalk again, trying to understand the heaviness of the guilt that Mustang held. “Even after the Promised Day though-” 

His friend laughed. “Oh, we are somewhat better because of that. We felt a little redeemed. And our work in Ishval has been rejuvenating, but it would never happen between us. I honestly don’t think we’d ever get married even if we stepped down.” 

“Really?” 

He nodded. 

Jean chewed on his lip for a moment, tasting the tobacco. “And you can so easily talk about it?” 

Mustang took a deep breath before nodding. “It’s not easy,” he breathed. “It’s not. Hawkeye has been by my side long enough, I think it’s time for her to know happiness.” He picked up a box and walked back into the apartment. 

Jean watched his back while he finished his smoke break. He’d always supported Mustang, followed him without a second guess. Even now as he worked in intelligence, he did it to help Mustang. The man has serious ideals, a concrete vision, and was willing to make sacrifices to make it possible. Jean was sure that they did feel some vindication from the Promised Day, that his self-hate had lessened. It didn’t change the fact that he wanted democracy, and he wanted a fair world without war. A lot had changed, and Mustang was looking to change it more. The man was always dreaming. 

Jean put out his cigarette, rubbing it out on the sole of his shoe before tossing it into a trash can on the sidewalk. He walked slowly to pick up the last box. He had a duty to Mustang. He needed to fulfill it through Riza. It didn’t stop him from thinking though. If they never deserved normality, then why did she get pregnant? Why risk it all? Did she, or he, think that they could make it work? There was no reasonable way they weren’t feeling the heaviness of it all inside themselves. It didn’t matter what Roy said about not deserving it, there was still emotion that was being felt. 

He carried the box in to see Mustang taking a cookie from Riza. “I’m out of here,” he announced. “I better get the truck back. Anything else you two need? I don’t want to have to come back because Havoc can’t boil water.” He leaned down to scratch Hayate behind the ear. 

“Har har,” Jean glared. 

“I think we are good,” Riza nodded, looking over the space. “Come on, I will walk you out.” 

Jean let them, not even bothering to follow. Instead, he went to open another box to see it had several books in it. It looked like old journals and a few alchemic books. Riza wasn’t an alchemist, but the few talks that they had, he knew her father was. This must have been his. He opened a journal, looking at the scribbles or words, barely legible, and a few drawings of circles. He put the journal on the floor and picked up another one. The handwriting was different as were the circles. Jean wished he understood it. He set that journal on the floor next to the previous one and started shuffling through the books. Not one book in the box was some mystery novel. They were all on alchemy. 

“What are you looking through?” 

Jean looked over his shoulder as Riza came and kneeled next to him. Hayate sat next to her, looking into the box curiously. 

“What are these?” 

“My fathers,” she confirmed his thoughts. “I sold and burned just about everything of his. This is all that is left.” She picked up the journal, her fingers delicately floating over the top. Her dog sniffed at it, cocking his head with curiosity. 

“Why?” 

She set it down to reach into the box for a book. “Well… You know that Roy learned flame alchemy from him.” 

Jean nodded. They’d talked about it. 

“The most important ones were burned, but Roy keeps these for references and whatnot.” 

“Why do you keep them?” Jean pulled out a book and scanned through the pages. 

“I’m the protector of the secrets.” She said it so simply, so nonchalant, that it was clear that she had accepted her duty long ago. 

He processed her words as she put the journals and things in the box. She pulled the book from his fingers to place it carefully on top and closed the box. There was more to Riza than he would ever know or understand. Mustang understood. Mustang knew exactly what everything was. 

“Sometimes he needs them for references.” 

“Do you keep his journals?” Jean watched as she picked up the box and walked back to the spare room. 

“Some,” she confirmed. “I seem to guard everyone’s secrets.” 

Jean stood up, following her. He leaned in the doorway, watching her shove it in the closet. 

“It all really should be destroyed, but it’s mostly useless without me.” 

“You can read it?” 

She shook her head. “No.”

“Do you understand it?” 

She shook her head again. Her hand lingered on the box for a second more. “I kind of understand Mustang’s journals. I know his code.” 

Jean’s jaw dropped. “You know his code?” 

She laughed. “Oh yeah. I told him I needed to know if to be sure that it wasn’t easy enough to give away our secret.”

Jean scratched his head, feeling that his hair was greasy. He needed to shower. The topic lingered in the air and he felt the need to move towards a lighter subject. “What do you want for dinner,” he asked. “I can go get something if you want to unpack.” He didn't want to be in her way while unpacking. He was in her way while she boxed a few things and she was quick to tell him so. 

“I’m so hungry,” she laughed as she entered the kitchen, holding her stomach. “This little monster won’t let me eat.” She’d been eating mostly toast. It was easy to puke. Soup went down easy, and so did yogurt. He had been making mental notes of what she could and couldn’t eat. Although she had been craving fries and even chicken, it wasn’t in the cards. She was stuck with small amounts of carbs and dairy. 

“Let me go get a few groceries. Do you want anything in particular?” He grabbed his jacket by the door. 

“Would you mind if you stopped and got me something sweet from the creamery?” 

He nodded. He’d get a few yogurts too. 

As he grabbed the keys to her car, he patted his side to bring Hayate to follow him out. He’d take the dog with him for a car ride. Then he heard her gag. He turned sharply to see her dash to the bathroom, nearly tripping over the Shiba Inu. If it hurt to see her not be able to eat, it hurt more to see her throw up on an empty stomach, at the mere thought of food. There was nothing but retching. He followed her quickly to see her holding the toilet bowl, spitting what little was in her stomach into the bowl. He hurried to find a box with some towels in it. It was like every box they had brought in was missing towels. He remembered packing them. Still, his hands hurried as he heard her choking again. He ripped open the third to last box and grabbed one. With long strides, he returned to her side. He leaned over, handing it to her. Her face was red and her cheeks looked sunken. 

“Thanks,” she whispered, holding it to her face. “Maybe not sweets,” she laughed behind the towel. 

“I will get you whatever you want,” he assured. He rubbed her back with wide circles as he waited for her to catch her breath. He didn’t want to leave her. He was afraid she’d be alone, huddled in the bathroom, needing just a simple touch on her back. He looked up and out the door. Shouldn’t Mustang be doing it? Shouldn’t Mustang be there to comfort her? Black Hayate peeked his head in, looking concerned. He patted his leg and the dog came to lay down next to him. 

Then he remembered what Mustang had said. It was his turn to take care of her. So, Jean stayed. He sat down on the ground, rubbing her back as she hurled again, both wishing there was something to throw up. His head fell back against the wall and he prayed it would stop. He prayed that her breathing would return to normal and that she could stop fighting to hold things down. As he sighed, a head fell onto his shoulder. He looked next to him and Riza was wiping her face as she leaned against him. He didn’t say anything. Neither had to. They sat on the cold tile, just listening to the silence, smelling the leftover bile in the toilet. He wiggled his arm further around her, pulling her close against him as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. It might not be what Mustang would do, but it was what he could do.

* * *

Jean stopped and got her some sesame noodles, something she strangely could eat and they were held down. She didn’t puke again. Drinking a glass of milk with the food seemed to lessen the anger of the baby inside her. He finished putting things away as she did dishes, each quietly working. The radio played softly in the background. The day just seemed to settle. It’d been mostly quiet between them, both unknowing what to say. He could feel the uneasiness of the silence but was unsure what to bring up either. Instead, he’d pat her back as he passed by her, and she’d smile her gratitude for being there. Jean knew that she did appreciate him. She could have done all this on her own, no doubt, but she was thankful she didn’t have to. It made him feel better because he could do that. Wasn’t that part of the plan to begin with?

They made their way to the bedroom, putting the bed frame together, and the mattress on top. He could see she was getting tired in her slow movements. Her legs and arms seemed to drag as they handed him this or that, holding the bar up for him to screw into the holes. He heard her heavy sigh as they positioned the mattress on top. She’d  _ never _ been one to be out of shape, let alone exhaling such a sigh to indicate her being tired. For as neat of a person as she was, she didn’t do the sheets as crisp as she did the ones on his bed. Riza instead put them on just enough to be called a bed. He put the warm comforter on top, pulling it center before following her to the living room. Their home was almost ready to be lived in. It just needed a few more things and a little love. Jean was willing to do that. 

“I’m going to go get in the shower,” he announced. “If you have to puke, you better do it now.” 

Riza instantly started to laugh. “I will let the baby know that, thanks.” 

He grinned. “Is there anything I can help you with before I go?” He watched as Hayate scratched his face before settling down in his bed. He liked dogs to begin with, but Hayate was an exceptional canine. He was falling in love with the dog. 

She shook her head. “No, I will finish this up and rest for a bit. I know it’s early but I’m feeling tired. I also have to work tomorrow. The general left some papers for me to do. I’m still thinking of going in. I’m sure they need my help there.” 

“Yeah,” he nodded slowly, looking away from her. “I have to do some rounds.” Since they had talked about Riza and Jean being married, word of him leaving Central was dismissed. He wasn’t going to get sent south anytime soon. He reached down into the towel box and pulled up a bright white towel. “If you need me, just call.” He turned and walked into the bathroom. It was funny to him because he’d grown so quickly to listen. He listened before. He’d heard people sneaking up on them, twigs cracking, or the light shuffling of foliage. He’d even heard the breath of people while waiting outside a door before a raid. This time it was a constant need to listen for her. It wasn’t something he was turning on and off. It was constant. 

She turned the radio up, and for a minute he thought he heard her humming, but the shower drowned out most of the noise. The hot steam was also a tension release for him. So much had transpired that he had he actually needed to think about it. He needed to process what Mustang had said to him, what Riza had said to him, and how he felt about it all. Jean sighed. He needed at least two cigarettes too. Maybe after she went to bed, he and Hayate would go out and he would have one last smoke before going to his spot on the couch. 

Her devotion to Mustang was unfathomable. The two of them had been married in a sense long before Jean was ever in the picture. He had to wonder if he’d ever mean that much to her or if he’d just be the one that stepped in to help? The worst part is that Mustang knew what he meant in the equation. He knew that he meant everything to her, and he still separated himself from it. He needed to. Riza wouldn’t let him take the fall for her, even though a pregnancy was proof of a drastic slip-up. 

He got out of the shower, putting on some grey sweats and a t-shirt to go out in the living room. She was laying down, with his mother’s quilt over her. A mystery book lay next to her, giving clear evidence that she did try to stay awake. He stood over her, watching her sleep so peacefully. It wasn’t something he normally saw considering that he had spent the last week sleeping on the couch. Though the door was always left open, he never went in there. Furthermore, she was always awake first with her herbal tea. 

Without a second thought, he reached down and picked her up. She stirred but didn’t say anything and Hayate just raised his head to acknowledge the movement. She just remained there while he carefully made his way to the bedroom. He pulled back the sheets with his finger, gently placing her in, and covering her with the comforter. She curled up, her back towards him. He watched for a second, seeing her breathing leveled out. Another thing he never in his lifetime thought he would do; carry Riza Hawkeye to bed. 

Jean sighed as he walked back out. He turned off the light, making sure the rest of the apartment was ready for bed, then moved himself to the couch. He watched as Hayate got up, circled back in the bed again, and yawned. Jean yawned. He laid down, pulling the quilt up to his waist, putting his arms behind his head as he looked up at the ceiling. He should have just broken down and got the spare room a bed. Maybe he’d do that next paycheck. He’d just break down and do it. The couch was killing his back. Maybe he was getting too old for this kind of antics. Jean closed his eyes, listening to the people above them walk around. 

“Jean?” 

He opened his eye, hearing the bed creak. He listened as she walked out and into the living room. She leaned against the doorframe and sighed. “It’s hard for me to sleep knowing you are out here.” 

He frowned. 

“You don’t even have to touch me if you don’t want to.” 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. It was that ….

“Just come to bed. I think it’s ridiculous.” 

He sighed. “It’s…” 

“I know what it is,” she argued quietly. “But I’m tired of hearing you groan in the morning.” 

He sat up, scratching his cheek nervously. 

“I promise I won’t touch you.” She waved her head. “Just come get some decent sleep. You bought a big bed, use it.” 

He stood up. They could be roommates and sleep in the same bed right? He scoffed at himself. That was a joke. He didn’t want to be roommates. His body screamed for him to be something more to her. Where the feelings and desires ever came from was, and would be a forever, mystery to him. Though he had read that a pregnant woman can just make men aroused, he couldn’t determine if that was the case or not. “Fine,” he relented. 

They crawled into the bed, her curling up away from him. He laid on his back, his hands on his stomach, still listening to the neighbors above them. They weren’t loud, thankfully. He turned to look next to him, listening to her lightly snore. His fingers tingled as he remembered feeling her back, her head on his shoulder. It felt nice. He smiled. It felt really nice. 

Jean turned on his side, his head resting on his arm. He looked at her, reaching out carefully to rest his hand on her side. She hummed quietly, wiggling under his hand. Could she be thinking of Mustang and his fingers on her side? 

“Thank you, Jean,” she whispered into the darkness. 

He smiled and exhaled quietly through his nose. No. She knew it was him. There he was, distancing himself from her out of fear that she didn’t want him when all she wanted was his comfort to begin with. He slid forward, pulling her slowly into his chest. With a hand on her side, he closed his eyes. It wasn’t as bad as he thought. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jean sure is in his own head a lot. Seems that he's even stopping himself from happiness, huh? Jean! Get out of your head and into the game! 
> 
> Thank you for reading! See you next week!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean is learning how difficult it's going to be with a hormonal Riza. He also can put himself aside to make sure she's okay.

By the time she was showing her appetite had come back some, they had both defined the diet that she would be restricted to. So far, anything remotely sweet-smelling made her instantly sick. He tried to buy her a slice of cake...that did not go well. She craved fish though, which was weird enough. She wanted anything salty so Xing food was an easy fix most nights. Other nights, he found himself either watching her cook, something he assumed she knew how to do, but never saw it therefore never concluded it was something she did. Through some reading, and other’s accounts, there was the possibility of her tastes changing, and Jean was eager to witness the evolution. However, if her stomach was really upset, he found a thick slice of buttermilk of bread and some butter worked just fine. He saved the jam for himself. Though, she could barely look at it. They went for a walk together every morning with Hayate, and every evening before bed, learning to at least play the part of husband and wife, if at all for theatrical reasons. No one could know where the real feelings lie. They’d grown into a domestic routine that was almost… dull. She was already tired of him hovering over her, swatting him away when he followed her around the apartment. 

“I’m fine,” she would insist. 

He still persisted. He feared Mustang more than her most days. If Mustang had sent her home, it was for good reason and Jean wasn’t going to contradict the man who had the power to burn him alive. Even when sleeping, he wanted to make sure she had enough covers, enough pillows, and went out his way to make sure she had the space she needed. It annoyed her to no end and her rolling eyes were too obvious on most days. 

He had especially been careful in bed. He didn’t want her to think anything, and honestly, he didn’t want to have any of those thoughts. The simple concept of any sexual interaction with Riza Hawkeye was intimidating. On top of it, it’d been a while since he’d gotten laid, obviously. It made him uncomfortable in the morning. He also didn’t want to touch her belly. It was awkward. He didn’t feel a connection, making it feel more as if he was intruding on something he shouldn’t be part of. She didn’t think he’d let her if it was just out of curiosity on his part and not out of just a laying limb in bed. It wasn’t his child, it wasn’t his place. Instead, he curiously looked from afar, wondering how big she was going to get and how amazing it was that life was growing inside her. 

He knew how pregnancies worked, understood the concepts and major points, but it still made him tilt his head. If anything she’d grown more tired. He chalked it up to that she couldn’t have her normal routine of caffeine and tea. Maybe it was because the baby was sucking the energy from her. Nevertheless, when she did slow down, even if it was for an hour, he let her sleep. He knew absolutely nothing about being married and knew nothing about what the effects of a pregnancy were on a body. 

“Your coffee smells so good,” She groaned. 

He looked down at his cup then back up at her. “Sorry,” he yawned. He wasn’t sure if that was something he was willing to give up. At least it didn’t make her sick. His cigarettes were borderline with her and he was resisting giving those up as long as he could. 

She sighed and went back to her oatmeal. “I’m not going into the office today,” she announced. “Mustang had me take work home yesterday.” Jean watched as her head dropped, her brow grew close together, and her jaw tightened. She obviously was not a fan of this decision, but who was he to argue it? 

He nodded instead as he opened the paper. “I will be downtown most of the day.” He scanned the page. “He’s got me on this case about some missing jewelry, I guess?” 

She raised her eyebrow at him before looking at her part of the paper. “That necklace is worth a small fortune,” she reminded as she turned her page. 

“I’m not some PI,” he grumped. “I am an intelligence officer. What happened to all the spy work?” He groaned and took a sip of his coffee. At first, he was just out to find pieces of intel for General Mustang leading up to military scandals and incerections. That was far more fulfilling than listening to gossip regarding a necklace.

“You married the general’s favorite officer,” she answered, reminding him of his decision before taking a drink of her herbal tea. 

“I want to do some spy work, something exciting!” He pouted, his shoulders slumping in disappointment. 

She didn’t respond. She didn’t even look up at him as she turned the page of her paper. 

He sighed loudly and stood up with a stretch. “Do you want me to bring you anything from town?” 

“Some apples,” she requested. 

“No noodles today?” 

She shook her head. “I don’t want a diet based on fast food. I’m hoping the apples aren’t too sweet, I’ve been craving them. Plus, I need to watch my figure.” She looked down at her body. “I need to go out for a run, or go to the gym tomorrow. I’ve just been so tired.” 

“You look fine,” he waved that off. “You’re pregnant, you’re going to look a little big.” 

When he said it, he knew he had already regretted it. It wasn’t anything anyone wanted to hear, especially an officer who prided herself on being fit. He could have easily offered to go with her, or to bring home salads too. So far veggies didn’t make her sick. The least he could do is bring more home and eat them with her. Instead, he fed her whatever she craved. Instead, he had called her “big.” 

He expected some backlash. He preemptively flinched but she dropped her head into her hands and groaned. 

“It’s not that noticeable yet,” he tried to comfort. He could hear her starting to sob. He walked behind her, tentatively, he put his hand on her back. 

“Not right now,” she snapped, shaking his hand off her. She stood up sharply and marched into the bedroom. “I need to get some work done.” 

She was just going to bury her emotion in her work. It made sense, now that he thought back to it, she was a workaholic and had never shown emotion. She just worked harder when something bothered her. He frowned, his arms falling to his sides. She was going to be really productive if that was the case. Jean scratched his messy bed head and picked up his coffee from the table. He’d wait till she was done getting dressed. If it was him working from home, he’d stay in his sweats all day. Riza insisted on getting dressed. Though it seemed silly, he was starting to learn the boundaries of what to say and what not to say. Her getting dressed to sit at the table and go over papers was something he was not going to fight over. He worried it would end up in a fight of some wort even if he offered something different. Her emotions were supposed to get more unstable as she got more along, and he still didn’t know how she reacted to certain stimuli on a regular basis. Jean shivered at the unpredictable situation he was in. What had he gotten himself into?

He went into the bathroom, turning on the shower. He heard her talking to Hayate, getting him ready for a walk. He’d let her go alone this time. He figured she needed her independence. It’d give him some time alone too, not that she interrupted much of his flow.. He had to laugh because he’d been a bachelor for so long that doing the dishes or rinsing out his bowl was not the first thing he thought of. He’d learned better. She fixed that habit pretty quickly. “How Mustang ever thought he could deal with this, is a mystery to me,” he chuckled as he got under the hot water. “He’s more of a slob than all of us.” 

He heard her return early from her walk while he was trimming his goatee. He listened as she walked around, fed Hayate, and the rustle of papers. Of course, she would go right to work. He shrugged it off, wishing she would take a day to rest, and went to go get dressed. He had a full day ahead of him and didn't need to be stressing over her. She could obviously take care of herself. It wasn’t his place to order her to rest, and the man who did had a hard enough time forcing the order. 

He put the gun in the small of his back in his pants, putting on a black leather jacket. With a ruff of his fingers and some gel, he did his hair. The kitchen area had grown quiet and he peeked his head out to see her working, hunched over the table. “Do you need anything before I go,” he offered. 

She shook her head, not looking up. 

“Make sure that you eat.” He slowly made his way to the door. 

“My stomach is too upset.” 

He stopped and frowned. “Would you like to make you some porridge or maybe some toast?” 

She shook her head again, scowling at her work. 

“You’ve lost weight,” he said gently. “You need to eat.” For all the Xing food that she had eaten, it was true that she wasn’t gaining weight. Maybe she hadn’t really lost weight, but she wasn’t gaining any either. 

“I’m fine,” she told him with a strong tone. 

He raised his hands but didn’t move. “I’m just saying…” 

“And I’m telling.” 

“Riza,” he coaxed. 

“I’m fine. Go to work.” Her tone was unarguable. There was no leeway in it. 

He sighed, putting on his shoes. “I will come back and check on you at lunch.” He tightened his laces before giving Hayate a ruffling pet between the ears. 

She didn’t say anything back and he walked out the door to start his search. It bothered him that she was getting snappy at him. Most of the time he could shrug it off. He wasn’t looking for confrontation. Today, it hurt a little. He was just trying to help. His goal in mind was to let her do what she needed to do, and as long as he didn’t interfere, he would avoid her backlash. He frowned as he put his hands in his pockets. Mustang should be dealing with this. He wanted to walk right into the general’s office and tell him it was his turn to make her eat; and it was his turn to rub her back while she was puking; and it was his turn when … Jean sighed. He was just going to have to do it. He signed up for it after all. If Mustang was to do any of it, there’d be more rumors of an affair rather than just a baby. 

He ended up hearing about a warehouse that was shipping out boxes on a truck that was going south across the border. The particular thing was that the boxes were in more boxes and the shipper wasn’t even allowed to weigh the crates. Jean found that incredibly weird. He made his way down the warehouse district and looked around, grabbing a jacket of a worker that was laying on the back of a truck for cover. He made his way through some of the buildings, looking around. He found several containers that had locks on them, but that was nothing new. In one building he found long boxes that looked particularly interesting as they looked like arms shipment containers. When he found a crowbar, he wedged it open and only saw long piping. The last building on the end had a box full of toys. He looked through it casually, listening for anyone else in the warehouse. He picked up a bear, feeling it and thinking that maybe if he got something like this for the baby if Riza would calm down. It wasn’t until he set it in his hand that he felt the bottom-heavy. His fingers kneaded the bear. It wasn’t sand. Looking around once more, he pulled a knife out and cut the bear open. There inside was a string of pearls. 

“You have got to be kidding me,” he mumbled. He quickly put the pearls in his pocket and shoved the bear to the bottom of the crate. “No fucking way.” 

He hurried to the first phone booth he found and dialed the general. Normally, he would work his way up command and save the headaches, but he needed action on this immediately. Those boxes were near ready to be shipped. 

“General Mustang,” he answered. 

“I found the gems and jewelry. It’s in warehouse 6T as in tango. They are in a box with a bunch of toys.” 

“Havoc?” 

“The box had shipping labels on it.” Jean looked over his shoulder.

“I’m going to patch you through to Colonel Matson,” Mustang said. 

“It’s going out today.” 

“I’m on it,” he said firmly. “Bothering me with this” he then grumbled. “Call Colonel Matson next time.” 

“Yes, sir.” Havoc glared at the phone. Everyone seemed in a bad mood today but him. He dialed up the colonel and waited on hold for nearly twenty minutes. At least Mustang as a colonel never made anyone wait like that. 

As the colonel and his team got there, Jean joined forces as he led them into the building and the cargo. They captured two men, one which Jean suspected was a robber himself. Working in investigations with Mustang before had given him good skills to watch out for certain things. He was a better crime investigator than he was a spy. And at the end of the day he was worn down. He never stopped by for lunch and he kept wondering if Riza was okay. His mind kept wandering back to her, even as he went back to the offices to file an official report. He wasn’t even going to bother talking to Mustang if he was just going to be grouchy with him either. Jean was literally stuck in the middle of a rock and a hard place and had nowhere to go. The only place he wanted to go was the bar for a cold beer and then a quiet spot in his bed. 

He wanted to go back to work for something more exciting. He wanted to go on undercover missions across the border, find spies and intelligence that would save the country. But, he was doomed to be in Central. Well, it wasn’t doomed, per say, but doing the right thing. The truth was still that the right thing hurt, and was boring.

He grabbed some apples for her, a fresh loaf of sourdough bread that she likes from Dough-Know bakery, and a bottle of milk because he knew she could keep that down and made his way slowly back home. His shoulder hurt from slamming against a door and in the process he had strained his knee when he turned a sharp corner going after the perp. He was lucky he stopped before bashing his head on an overhanging board. He wanted to look through his gun magazine and just chill. Maybe he’d go to bed early, with an ice pack on his knee. He grumbled. Getting old sucked. What happened to the young Jean that could hop over a fence like no one’s business, run five miles like it was nothing, and do pull-ups just to impress the ladies? 

Jean opened the door, peeking in to see paper all over the table with no Riza in sight. Hayate pitter-pattered out from the hallway and tilted his head at Jean. He hung his jacket up, taking off his boots, and wondered if she had given up and gone to bed early. Quietly, he put the groceries away, leashing Hayate, and took him for a walk. The last thing he wanted to do was wake her. It was an off day, he told himself. It’d be better tomorrow. 

When he came back in, he heard the shower running. Again, he wanted to keep his space. It was better for both of them if today was spent in quiet and just doing their own thing. He made them some oatmeal for dinner. He wanted a damn steak and his mother’s plate size biscuits but was barely able to walk around with his knee hurting him like it was, let alone make a decent meal like that. Something to just get her to eat would be fine and he’d eat it too just to make it easy and not make her have to smell his meal over hers. He never knew if she wasn’t going to feel well after or if she was going to cry because she wanted some too. It was better to avoid that situation altogether. He cut up an apple, hoping it wasn’t too sweet, and pulled out the sourdough bread for her and buttered it. He felt bad. She’d been eating everything so bland. Even when he could bring fresh fish home, it was salt and pepper only. 

The shower turned off and he watched as Hayate’s head picked up to look down the hallway. She came out with a towel around her and stopped cold as their eyes met. Jean’s face instantly went red, as well as did hers. Sure, they had existed together in the same living space, but they had avoided this kind of confrontation. They even dressed separately to avoid the awkwardness of one being compromised by the other. Now, he only saw her in a towel! 

“I didn’t think you were back yet,” she glared. 

“Sorry,” he raised his hands, trying his best not to look at her larger breasts under the towel. His body went hot. “I didn’t say anything because I thought you knew I was here!” Lie. 

She pulled the towel tighter against her as she shuffled into the bedroom. “Next time say hello,” she called back over her shoulder annoyed. Though, he knew she was more than annoyed. She was probably more embarrassed than he was and that could have gone very hostile, very quickly. 

Jean put his hand over his heart and looked down at Hayate. “You could have warned me,” he glared at the canine. 

Hayate only put his head back down as his tail thumped softly on his bed, looking more amused than guilty.

He gulped as he went back to putting the oatmeal on the table. He needed a cold shower now. He’d been watching her body change, watching all these things about her and had to look the other way. He’d been avoiding this whole conflict. He mused to himself that maybe he really had made a mistake. If he had married someone who was in love with him, with a baby that he had made, that he wouldn’t have been acting like a pubescent teenager trying to not look at the pretty girl at the pool. 

After what seemed too long, she came from the bedroom. She cleared her throat and silently made her way to the table. It was obvious that she wanted to go hide as much as he did. However, they were adults. They would handle it like adults. There was no reason to make it more of a thing. But there was. Jean couldn’t handle just letting the situation be. He needed closure. There had to be some resolution of the situation to know that it was all okay and he could go back to being her roommate. 

Since she wasn’t going to say anything, Jean broke the ice. “It’s okay,” he tried to say. “Things happen.” He looked up at her, knowing that he was still blushing. “I didn’t see anything if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

She shook her head and a loud sigh. “I was just surprised, that’s all.” Her cool composure seemed to have returned. She picked up her spoon and took a bite of the now cool oatmeal. She smiled slowly. “Thank you for the bread.” She picked up and smelled it. “Thankfully the baby doesn’t mind the smell of fresh sourdough.” 

He grinned. “Good. I got it from Dough-Knot.” 

“Thank you…” She took a small bite of it and chewed slowly, looking like she was in heaven with the taste. He could see how her body relaxed, leaning back into the chair, and a thankful smile warmed her lips.

“Did you eat throughout the day?” He asked as he took a bite of his bread. 

She shook her head. “I don’t expect this to stay down either.” 

He frowned. All he wanted to do was comfort her, do something to help her. Instead, he pushed the plate of apples to her and ate his own dinner. If seeing her in a towel was enough, so was sitting silently at the table afterward. His foot bounced under the table as he looked at her wet hair drip onto her shoulders. She stared almost too intently on her oatmeal and apples. She nearly refused to make eye contact with him. He picked up their bowls at the end of the meal, put them in the sink, and made sure to rinse them out. She got up, moved to the coffee table where he’d put her documents. She sat down on the floor, looking over a few more pages. That was how she was going to deal with the stress, through more work. 

“It’s the end of the day, Riza. Take a break. You can finish it tomorrow.” He gave an uneaten apple to Hayate. 

She glared at him feeding her dog scraps but didn’t argue. He limped back over to the table and sat down. From his magazine, he watched her scrounge over the papers, making marks and filling out a form with diligence. Even in her sick state, she was going to work herself to death. He had to wonder if it ever drove Mustang insane too. He had to wonder how many nights did Mustang order her to go home, even when he was a colonel. At least he didn't have to see her hurt as Jean did. He knew that many nights she stayed there late. If she wanted things done, they’d get done. There was little anyone could do to stop it. 

“I missed you,” she whispered. 

He looked up properly. 

She didn’t move or make eye contact. “You didn’t come home for lunch.” 

“Sorry,” he said quietly. “I got busy.” He stayed still, waiting for her to say something, but she didn’t. She just continued to work. After a few minutes, she stood up. She stood still for a moment before looking towards the hallway. 

“Are you going to puke?” 

She didn’t move. “I hope not.” 

It seemed like time stood still, both just holding their breath for the next scene to arrive before she rubbed her face. 

“Seriously, Riza. Just go to bed. I will be in later. I will take Hayate out, and do the dishes. Don’t worry.” 

It looked like she debated it for a second before nodding. “I’m just so tired.” 

He went to stand up but she waved for him to sit back down. “I can get ready myself. Don’t be up so late.” 

“Okay,” replied softly. In the meantime, he got up, did the dishes, and organized the papers. 

He took Hayate for one last walk, fighting the limp in his stride. As he came back in, he opened the freezer, grabbing a bag of frozen vegetables. Finally, he let his limp show as he walked back to the couch and put his foot up on the coffee table. He put the ice on his knee and cursed at his age. He patted the couch for Hayate to join him, another thing Riza would chastise him for, but for that night, he’d take it. He leaned back, closing his eyes, and rubbed behind Hayate’s ears. Maybe tomorrow would be better. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of an off chapter, sure. But Jean is husband worthy if you ask me. And Riza is just starting to get the hang of these pregnancy hormones. It probably doesn't help that he independence is taken away either huh. She's stuck with a Jean instead of Roy and is pregnant with uninterrupted hormones. While reading the next chapters, I beg you to try to take how she could feel into consideration. I feel more for her in a way than Jean. And Jean's knee! Poor guy. 
> 
> I hope that you enjoyed this chapter. I'm sorry that I'm late publishing this one this week. I hope that you all have a super New Year. Let's go into this one with a positive attitude and a new outlook on life. We must believe in humanity.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It comes to a head about how Jean feels about the whole situation.

He bolted awake as he heard her gasp and the bed moved suddenly. He was about ready to fight someone off as he jumped up only to see her back as she fled from the room. He got up quickly, knowing exactly what she was going to do. The past week had left both of them up in the middle of the night by the toilet. The night before last they fell asleep on the floor, leaning against each other. The child wanted to kill her and drag him down as an accomplice. Thankfully, it’d been the weekend so no time from work was lost, and it didn’t matter anyway because she was going to go into the office if it was going to kill her, which Jean was convinced it would. 

She was hunched over the toilet, holding herself up with white fists. He walked up, pulling her hair back, his fingers brushing against her cheeks. He’d ask her if she was okay, but he knew her answers already so well. Her back arched as she heaved again, puking what bile that was left in her stomach. Jean waited quietly, not saying anything but handing her a towel. She dry heaved a few more times before falling back against the wall, sliding to the floor. He stood over her, watching Riza pull her knees into her chest and start to cry. If it tore at his insides to see her puke so much, it killed him to see the strongest woman he knew break down in tears. 

“Do you want a piece of bread,” he asked quietly. 

She shook her head. “I just want to stop puking,” she sobbed. She put her face against her knees and her back wracked with soft sobs. It was getting later in the pregnancy, and the doctor had said that the sick stomach should show down about now. She should have been able to begin to hold down more food, be on a better relationship with the fetus growing inside her. It worried him, and Mustang, that it wasn’t. Jean wasn’t so concerned that something was wrong, but wondered why she was so extensively being sick. 

“You have to eat something,” he whispered. “Your stomach is probably more upset that you haven’t eaten.” 

Riza didn’t move. 

Jean slid down next to her, pulling her into him. They’d gotten close in the seven weeks they’d been together officially. There had been far too many moments of them in the bathroom. And even though he was tired, he was still ready for more. He’d still go the extra mile for the woman that he knew would go beyond for him. He felt his shirt grow wet with her tears as he held her tighter against him. It wasn’t even his fault. He couldn’t even honestly be sorry for it. He could only grump and groan at the fact that Mustang had created the little devil in her. He pulled her tighter against him, hushing her softly.

She stopped, looking up at the sink. “I think it’s better now,” she whispered. “Let me brush my teeth.” 

Jean helped her up and went out to get her a glass of milk. For whatever reason, it helped, and for that reason, he kept an endless supply of it. He went back to give it to her, watching as she sipped it carefully. 

“I’m so tired,” she breathed as she started to cry again. “I just want to sleep a whole night.” 

“Do you want me to punch Mustang tomorrow when we see him?” 

She laughed quietly and took another drink. “Next time Roy says that he doesn’t have a condom…” 

He laughed, leaning against the doorway, trying to not think about Mustang having sex with Riza. She gave him back the milk and looked back at the toilet. 

“Round two?” 

She stood still for a second before turning back and grabbing the milk. “No, I think I’m okay.” 

“I heard that if you’re especially sick, it’s a girl.” Jean grinned in his tired state. 

“Where did you hear that?” 

“Just word on the street.” Most of the things he knew at this point were from what people had said around him. However, this one he read in a parenting magazine at the cafe.

Riza nodded slowly, handing him the empty class. “She’s not very nice…” 

He laughed again, turning to take the glass back to the kitchen. He heard her make her way back to the bedroom. When he got back, she was curled under the blankets in a little ball, struggling for a steady breath. 

“I just want it to stop,” she said between sobs again. “I just want it to stop.” 

He climbed in on his side and nodded. Slowly he reached out, pulling her towards him. “Come here,” he coaxed. She turned to face him, letting her face bury into his chest as he pulled her tight against him. Both his arms wrapped around her, his chin resting just above her head. He lowered down, pressing a kiss on top of her head. “I wish I could make it better,” he breathed into her hair. “I wish I could take this all away.” 

She looked up at him, pulling away as her tired brown eye met his soft blues. He smiled down at her, sympathetically. It was as if she was looking for something in him. Her eyes darted from one eye to the next, then around his face, back to his eyes. He just waited. Her brows lightened up as she studied him. 

“What,” he whispered. 

“You,” she whispered back. 

He smiled more, letting her look at him. He was so much taller than her, and she fit right into his body. He wouldn’t have noticed so much at any other moment. One day she was going to be so big that she wouldn’t even be able to face him. He leaned down again, kissing her forehead. “Go to sleep,” he breathed. 

As he straightened, she shifted against him. He looked down to feel her head reach up and kiss him. He should have pulled away. They hadn’t kissed since their wedding day seven weeks ago. It wasn’t something that came easy. Sure, he’d given her a peck on the head, and many supporting hugs, but nothing this intimate. His body surged. She tasted like puke and wintermint of her toothpaste but for some reason, it didn’t bother him. He only felt her lips against his, pressed against them. He pressed back, accepting the pressure, his arms pulling her tighter to him, His nose brushed against hers as he tilted his head to get a better angle. It was needed in all the ways he could think of, but most of all, he felt love. 

She pulled from him, gasping quietly, and smiled. He blinked his eyes open, subtly licking his bottom lip, and took a deep breath. He didn’t even ask her why. Instead, Jean nuzzled against her hair and pulled her against him. She snuggled in, taking a deep breath before sighing heavily. 

He wasn’t going to analyze it. He was just going to let it be, he told himself. It was going to be fine. For whatever reason it was for, there was a deep ‘thank you’ and assured love behind it. 

* * *

In the morning he found that they had not moved. He raised his head to the ceiling as the children who lived above them scampered across the floor. He took one hand from her to scratch the sleep crusties from his eyes and he yawned. He didn’t know what time it was, but he felt partially good for having to wake up again in the middle of the night. She looked so peaceful. It seemed that she was finally getting the rest that she had needed for the past week. His chest warmed and he sighed through his nose. A hot cup of coffee was going to be great. They’d go out for their morning walk, and maybe he’d get that haircut that was needed. If anything, he’d feel marginally productive. 

Then his cheeks grew warm as he remembered his lips against hers. It felt good. It felt really good. It felt as if they had really connected, and what may be marriage really was. Nothing really mattered but her lips against his. He looked down at her, wondering if they’d kiss again if she’d mind if he kissed her? Wouldn’t that be the best way to wake up? No. He wouldn’t push his luck. He was already in an uncomfortable position considering the biological makeup of a man. He groaned. Maybe she wouldn’t notice. It’d only been seven weeks. They were still very much in a honeymoon period of marriage. They were still getting to know each other! 

That was a joke in itself. Of course, she’d notice. It wasn’t like Riza was a naive woman who was hidden from the world for 30 years. She was pregnant. He cleared his throat quietly as he heard Hayate’s claws click on the floor before he took a drink of water from his bowl. He needed to get up and take the dog out. He probably should get up and take a long cold shower considering the thoughts growing in his head. It had been a while… 

He kissed the top of her head, shaking her gently with the flex of his arms. “Wake up,” he coaxed quietly. 

Her fingers dug into his shirt and she groaned. 

“At least let me free,” he chuckled. 

She pulled back with a yawn and looked around, her eyes landing on his. He gulped, still thinking about their lips and how the pressure of hers just screamed at him. “Hey,” she smiled. Her brown eyes were groggy, still awakening from an interrupted sleep. They still seemed to focus intently on him. Jean couldn’t help but wonder if she always was one to immediately wake up and not drag the morning on like him. 

“You can go back to sleep,” he whispered. “You just have to let me go. I will go take Hayate out.” He changed his mind. If she wanted to sleep more, he’d let her. 

Her hand brushed at his shirt and she hummed. “Thank you,” she whispered. 

He grinned. His arms tightened her into a hug again. God, how he wanted to just wiggle his nose against hers, whisper how beautiful she was that morning in her sleepy state, and how much he wanted to fix the day for her. Instead, he let go from the hug and wiggled from her. She sat up, rubbing her face for a few moments. 

“I will go with you. Give me a few minutes.” She moved to roll from the sheets, her body sluggish. 

He nodded. He opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of boxers before reaching down on his side of the bed for his pants. His hand stopped as it reached them. Mustang had kissed her too. Did she kiss him the same way? Did their lips press together so smoothly, slip the way his and hers did? Would she groan into the kiss, run her fingers through his hair as Jean imagined she’d do to him? He felt a cold chill run over his body and his stomach tightened. Were her kisses with him any different? Surely they meant different as the gesture was different. Mustang wasn’t there to comfort her or she’d be kissing him. When they slept together, all their liaisons, how did those kisses feel? How sweet, passionate -

“Are you okay?” 

Jean looked up to see Riza looked at him, her head cocked to the side. 

“You’re just…” 

“We kissed,” he said as he turned to look back at his pants. 

“Yeah,” she said slowly. 

He stood up, looking into her eyes. “No, we kissed.” 

She nodded slowly. 

“Is that how you kissed Mustang?” 

“What?” Her brow frowned and she stepped back. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

He shouldn’t have said anything. He should have just left it in his head. 

“You want me to compare kisses?” 

“No,” he quickly tried to explain. “I mean …” He groaned, his hand hitting his forehead. 

She frowned at him, waiting patiently for him to clear his name. 

“I mean…” He rubbed his face, pinching the bridge of his nose, and turned from her. “Nevermind. It’s just in my head.” 

“No,” Riza quickly argued. “What’s going on?” Her voice was ladened with concern as she reached out to him. 

“It’s just in my head.” He waved it off and walked out the door. He didn’t know how to explain himself. He wasn’t a man who could just say that he was uncomfortable kissing his best friend’s baby mamma. Jean groaned as he thought of Riza like that. However, one thought remained. Was he just something for her to kiss? He shook his head, shutting himself in the bathroom. She had kissed him because he was nice to her, because she loved him in some way or another. He looked at himself in the mirror. Did she love him? Jean pulled his pajama pants down and moved to slip on his pants. He felt like a replacement. He felt like he really wasn’t appreciated, he was just the person there that she happened to kiss. It could have been anyone. It should have been Mustang. 

“Jean, I have to pee.” 

He looked at the door for a second before opening it up. “Why did you kiss me?” 

She quickly turned to push him out and shut the door. 

Jean stood outside the door for a second before going back into the bedroom. He put on a clean t-shirt, reaching in to grab a pair of socks. Falling to sit on the edge of the bed, he stared at the floor. 

“Can we stop and talk about this for a second,” Riza announced as she entered the room. 

He wasn’t even sure how to talk to her about it. 

“Are you bothered that I kissed you?” 

“I…” he shook his head. “You kissed me when you should have kissed Mustang.” 

She sighed behind him. “Roy wasn’t here. You were here. I’m not married to Roy. I’m married to you.” It was an expected answer of sorts. She wasn’t wrong, but she was with Mustang longer than she’d been with Jean. He couldn’t understand how the impenetrable Riza was okay with just kissing anyone like that. 

“Don’t make me laugh,” he scoffed. “You’d be married to him if you could.” 

“So you’re going to bounce your insecurities off on me?” He could hear the heavy agitation in her tone. 

Jean got up and ran his hand through his messy hair. “Our marriage was supposed to be to cover up for the two of you!” He felt his words forming faster than he could stop them from coming out. “I was only supposed to be here so that the attention would be on me, not Mustang.” 

She raised her hands in the air, “Roy’s not here!” She rubbed her face, annoyed that Jean was even having these kinds of thoughts. And Jean could see it. He should have just been accepting of her love rather than fighting in it. But his stomach still turned as he thought about all the implications, and all the objections that stirred in his mind.

“Why is that?” He pointed to the door. “Where is he while you suffer here by yourself!” Jean flinched at his own words. They were harsh and he regretted them instantly as they came out. In a way, he thought he resented Mustang. He was angry that the man was so detached as he was saddened that he wasn’t there for the love of his life. Still, Jean bit his lip as he felt anger surge over the idea of Mustang not being there. However, it was Jean’s idea. Mustang was only doing as was required of him, and not being here to arouse suspicion. 

She glared at him, harder than he’d ever felt under her stare. 

God, he needed a cigarette. 

“If you don’t want to be there when I’m sick, then don’t be.”

That wasn’t it. He wanted to be there for her. “That’s the thing! I do want to be there for you!” He groaned and covered his face with his hands. He did. He wanted to be everything she needed. How could he explain himself? 

“Then maybe I did want to kiss you. Did you ever think of that?” 

Jean turned from her, then turned back to face her, his heart beating heavily under his chest bone. He wanted to explain it all to her. He wanted to tell her how much he wanted to make this right for her. How could he tell her that it was out of love more than it was about necessity? Heymans was right, he had always loved her. It was a matter of time before he accepted it himself. 

“I don’t understand why you think it’s so bad that I kissed you? We’re in this relationship-” 

“Forced,” he cut her off sourly, looking away from her. Could she ever love him back? Could she stand behind that there was no relationship, only an agreed-upon state of existence? The relationship was forced though. They hadn’t married out of love. They hadn’t formed a companionship other than a working one. Kissing her so early on like that just felt wrong. It made him laugh once since he never had trouble kissing women before. Riza had always been different.

“If you don’t want to be here then leave!” She shouted and pointed to the door. “You think that I  _ want  _ to be here? Did you ever imagine for a second that I was all happy to just say yes and be with you?”

He stood quietly, feeling like a scolded child. 

“I love Roy with all my heart, Jean. All my fucking heart. And yet, I can’t be with him. Even if I wasn’t married to him, he wouldn’t be able to be there with me. I would be cuddled away by myself while this child forced everything but my heart into a fucking toilet.” 

He so needed a cigarette. 

Her face grew red and her eyes swollen as she started to cry. “If I have to be married to anyone, I was thankful it was you!” 

His gut lurched forward.

“For the first couple weeks here I have just felt like a God damn pawn. This is all done for my fucking protection, and yet I’m here feeling like I can’t even eat on my own!” She wiped her nose with her thumb and looked away. “No, Jean, I don’t want to be here, but here we are.” 

He looked down at his feet. 

“You’re the one that is here.” She wiped one of her eyes, then the next. “And here you are, so self-conscious that you can’t even kiss me. You have been avoiding even looking at me.” 

“I’m not just going to assume a position like that,” he argued. “Like you said, we’re married by proxy, not because we were in love.” 

Her fists balled up by her side. 

“How can I look at you like that? You’re  _ his _ . Not mine!” 

She pointed out the door again. “Roy’s? I’m Roy’s? Jean, he’s not here? He gave me up when you asked! He knew he had to. We fucked up. We fucked up big time when I got pregnant. We knew we wanted to keep it, and yet we didn’t know how. You think that we can just waltz off and go to some hotel behind a bar and have sex? Is that the kind of woman you take me as?”

He wanted to puke. 

“It’s hard. I have an undying loyalty to Roy! I will  _ never  _ leave his side. And yet, I’m married to a man who I have, in all intentions, to remain loyal to.” 

“But you want to.” 

“Want to what?” 

Jean gritted his teeth. “You want to go have sex with him.” 

She stood quietly, staring at him coldly. 

“You do!” 

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re not coming onto me.” He never took Riza as someone that needed sexual fulfillment. Jean honestly thought it was something only he was struggling with. How naive he had been. 

“I can’t! You…” He raised his hands into the air. “We’ve been together for seven weeks, Riza! I can’t just jump in and have sex with you.” 

“Oh,” she laughed. “It’s like you’re not even trying, Jean!” She took a step forward. “I kissed you, but have you ever even held my hand? You call this marriage a sham, but you don’t even dare play the part. You can’t even pretend that you are happy.”

Jean stood his ground. He was happy. Down inside, he was happy. He had been perfectly content in this life. He felt that this kind of domestic bliss suited him. Thing was, he didn’t know how to stay happy. 

“What are you afraid of?” Her tone softened and she took a deep breath. She was so worked up, he was sure she was going to puke before he did. 

It was a good question because he was afraid of being second best. He was afraid of never being able to compare to Mustang. He was going to try for the rest of his life, married to Riza, trying to compare to a man she was never going to leave. “No matter how much I try, I will never have you like he does,” he whispered. “I’m literally here to be second best. No matter how hard I will ever try…” He bit his lip and looked away, fighting his own tears. “I agreed to be the cover for the two of you. When I agreed, I told myself that it was going to be okay when you two wanted to be together, but watching you cry last night in the bathroom, I was so angry that he wasn’t here. I’m the one taking care of you, while you’re thinking about him.” 

Riza ran her tongue over her upper lip, biting it as she thought for a second. 

“I need to smoke,” he said, brushing past her. 

“You can’t just walk away from this,” she called after him. 

“No,” he turned on his toe. “I’m not going to stand there, wondering what it’d be like to be Roy. I have to work this fucking shit out in my head.” He turned back and marched to the door. 

Hayate watched him, from his position in the hall as he grabbed his jacket by the door. He opened it, stopping for a second to think about turning back and asking her if she would ever kiss him like she kissed Mustang, but then thought why he was even asking. The answer would always be no. He shut the door behind him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay okay okay... Before I get a bunch of hate mail, let me explain myself! 
> 
> We need to remember 2 things. It's 1915 and Jean really wants this to work out. Also, we don't get to see Riza's side except knowing that she's going through all this and is pregnant which has its own consequences. I know that she can handle whatever comes her way on her own. I get that. That's canon. BUT! Let me tell the damn story. Also, I've started to feel really bad for Jean. Maybe I should let up on him *taps finger to chin in thought.* 
> 
> I'm very thankful for the readers. Seriously. You guys are awesome. I know this story is unconventional and a bit off, but hang in there with me. And there are FAR too many emotions. It just kinda spewed from my fingers when I wrote it. So, thank you for giving it a shot and reading it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean reason's himself to be a better husband and they... make up...

He should have taken Hayate with him. The dog never got out for his morning walk. Riza would take him out. She could put others ahead of herself like that. Jean flinched as he felt selfish. He was legitimately surprised the dog didn’t bite him in the argument. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t get bit, Hayate was very protective of her, more so with her pregnancy. 

He took in a deep breath of nicotine. It wasn’t that either one of them was wrong, it was that the argument just seemed to be at a stalemate. There wasn’t anywhere for it to go. Everything came out so fast. He could hear her frustration, and he was frustrated, but there seemed to be no solution. Truth was, he was horribly sexually frustrated while living with a woman who had been off-limits since before he married her. To top off the ice cream sundae, he couldn’t stop thinking about her and Mustang. Jean had to even wonder if Mustang had ever heard her like that. Maybe he had gotten a piece of her that Mustang hadn’t. 

He sat on the bench at the park, licking the taste of tobacco off his lips and itched his nose with his thumb. Thing was, he never thought to compare himself to anyone prior to this. He had always felt somewhat inferior to Mustang, but not on this level. Worst of all he lied to himself when he said he’d be okay with all of this. It wasn’t even two months in and he was already feeling the repercussions of his stupid idea. He took his fingers and itched the stubble on his cheek with the hand holding the cigarette. He hated himself. He had every reason to. He was naive to think that he could look the other way. He was an idiot to think that he didn’t, or wouldn’t, fall in love with her. He thought he’d never truly feel jealousy. 

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, sucking in the smoke as if it was his first gasp of air from being underwater. Letting the smoke settle in him, he let it out by blowing it upward and to the right. He remained hunched over, his fingers massaging his scalp. There were always the repercussions of his actions for her. Of course, she didn’t want to be in the relationship from the start. He was a jackass for forgetting how she felt. He could have at least tried to make it more comfortable for her in the emotional sense. Sure, he supplied everything that she needed; food, a home, a bed, a warm body when she needed one. But she was an intimidating woman. She had always remained headstrong and independent. He was surprised that she hadn’t forced him to leave her alone for most of this. 

He was also surprised that she hadn’t asked for Mustang in any of this. 

Jean frowned. He was half tempted to get a cab to Central Command and demand that Mustang man up and be there for her and his bastard child. The man was getting off without a scratch. 

He let out another stream of grey-blue smoke. That wasn’t true either. If Jean was to put himself in Mustang’s shoes, he’d be riddled with guilt knowing that he couldn’t just be with her the way he needed to be, the way she needed him to be. Mustang didn’t need any more shit that he was already giving himself. Jean was sure that he kept sending Riza home because he couldn’t stand to see her in so much pain. In a way, Jean was privileged to see Riza in such a compromisable position. He may never compare to Mustang, but he had to fill his shoes the best he could. 

Maybe it was something he was just going to have to come to terms with. He couldn’t compare to Mustang in many ways, and it was just always going to be that. Though there was this despair, Jean felt something had to break. He’d become so insecure that it was out of his own character. In seven weeks, he’d been broken down into thinking that he had to compare to someone. In all his years of dating, he’d never really gone into a relationship with the ideal that he was less of a man. In the sham that was his marriage, he would consider himself nothing more than a pile of rocks, used to build a wall to cover something up. 

The red bud on the end of his cigarette glowed bright as he tasted the burning tobacco in a heavy breath. Now he had to go back. He looked down the street towards the apartment. He’d been gone for almost two hours. Dread rushed over him like a wave, making his stomach ache...or maybe that was the nicotine poisoning. Nonetheless, he still had to go back and explain what? He was going to have to make it work. He promised himself that. What could he say though that would make up for him spilling out his jealousy for a man who did what he cannot? 

There was only one conclusion. He loved her. He’d been lying to himself from the start. Or maybe it was the hormones that she was giving off, he tried to reason. But he had become somewhat more possessive over her than he thought he would have. No, Jean argued. Hormones there may be, he was still in love with her. 

He put out his cigarette and stood up to stretch. It was too bad that he smelled so bad of burnt tobacco that she probably would make him air out for the day before going back inside. It was only a matter of time before the smell of cigarettes made the baby sick too. Or maybe it already did? He scratched his head and sighed. He’d go home, change his clothes, and take a shower to be kind. He’d do that for her, another set of evidence that he’d do more for her than he’d do for himself, though he wondered if he could ever give up smoking at all. No, he concluded. Nothing would get him through pregnancy hormones better than his cancer sticks. 

He dropped the end of the cig into a trash can, shoved his hands in his pockets, and started back home. His head spun with ideas on how to make it up to her. She was clearly the one more upset than he. She wanted more physical contact, something he would never in his life imagined that Riza would want. Never in the world had he ever imagined her needing anything less of a hug! Jean scowled at himself. She was human, and she was a woman. Jean’s scowl grew harder. Women didn’t have anything to do with it. He needed a hug sometimes too. Maybe he’d go in there, grab her and kiss her as she deserved…. Maybe after he brushed his teeth. Jean groaned. She needed him to be there in ways that Mustang couldn’t. He sighed through his nose. There were so many ways that Mustang couldn’t be there for her. It wasn’t like he could just snap his fingers and be just like the man. Going forward though, he was going to have to start … Jean grumped. He’d have to admit to himself that the one woman that he always saw off-limits, was now okay to date. He was going to have to date her. Jean nodded. He’d court her, get to know her, and maybe learn to love her on that kind of level. Jean grinned. Why had he not thought about this before?

Jean approached the apartment, letting his hand rest on the door handle for a minute before opening it. Whatever happened, he’d work through it. The idea was to find solutions. What did she need from him? He couldn’t be like Mustang, no. He could however be Jean and help her in his own way. He thought back to his own father, and how devoted he was to his mother. He’d always been there whenever and however she needed. Jean needed to be the same. She just needed to tell him. Whatever she said, he’d do his best to comply. 

Inside, though, the apartment was silent. He shut the door quietly, looking around. There was a glass of water and oatmeal on the table, so she did try to eat. “Hello?” he called out. Nothing returned. He took his sneakers off, putting them by the door and hung his jacket up. Carefully he walked back to the bathroom expecting her to be there, but she wasn’t. He started to wonder if she took Hayate out. 

Peeking into the bedroom, he noticed her sleeping on her side, Hayate curled up under her resting arm. She must have been feeling bad if she let Hayate on the bed. He walked in, petting the canine on the head before placing a kiss on her head. As he stood up, her hand tiredly grabbed his shirt. He stopped taking her hand from his shirt and put it in his palm. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, squatting down so that he was level with her. “I really wasn’t thinking about anything but myself. I didn’t take into consideration how you felt.” 

Her eyes opened and he saw how red they were. His chest ached and he hoped she hadn’t sat and cried the whole time he was gone. 

“Just tell me what you need me to do, and I’ll do it. I want to be there for you.” He kissed the back of her hand. 

She smiled. “I think you being Jean is pretty great,” she whispered. 

He smiled back at her, kissing the back of her hand again. “Let me go shower off. I’ll be right back.” 

She nodded, letting go of his hand, and closed her eyes. 

His shower wasn’t as long as it could have been. He mostly scrubbed the fuck out of himself and got out. He didn’t even shave, saving the stubble as he thought about growing a beard. When he returned to bed, Hayate was sleeping on the floor and she’d rolled over to face his side of the bed. He watched her a little while. Part of him knew what he should do while the other part feared rejection. He didn’t deserve to really nap with her. More than ever he felt that he should get another bed and put it in the second bedroom. 

He walked carefully, in his boxers and shirtless, to his side of the bed. It was by far the most intimate that he would be with her. It was giving up his own securities. His hand rubbed his stomach, over where his small scar remained, the burn mark that Mustang gave him to save him. He slipped under the covers, shifting slowly towards her. Riza opened her eyes and smiled when she saw him. “What,” he asked in a whisper. 

“Your chest isn’t as hairy as I thought.” She poked him in his chest. She then frowned. “I am sorry for blowing up.” 

“I think you had good reason to be upset,” he countered, hoisting his head up on his hand. As much as he wanted to tell her she needed to eat, take her vitamins, or any other task, he was going to do the opposite. “What do you need me to do?” 

Her fingers picked at the sheets for a few seconds as he could see her think. He had to wonder if it’d ever been about her before. She’d spent her whole life chasing around Mustang, and babysitting him, that he wondered if anyone had the time to top and ask what she needed. She shifted to him, burying her head into his chest. “Can I just stay here for a moment?” 

Jean laid down, adjusting his pillow and his arm so that her head rested on his shoulder. Pulling the blankets up to their waists he closed his eyes. This time he wouldn’t get up until she got up. 

* * *

He woke to pecks of kisses on his shoulder. He opened an eye, looking to his side to see Riza kissing delicate kisses on his skin. “What are you doing,” he asked in a groggy voice. 

She didn’t respond. She just looked up at him and sighed. 

He rolled over so they could face each other. “Not tired anymore? Do you want to try to eat something?” 

She shook her head. She looked up at him, and he could see that sliver of hope for affection that was there last night. This time he made the move. He leaned down, letting his nose rub against hers. He tested the waters, waiting to see if that is what she wanted. She rubbed her nose back and yawned. He kissed the top of her nose, chuckling as he did so. Then, just as he suspected, she leaned up and kissed his lips. It wasn’t forceful as last time, just feeling it out to see if it went anywhere. They sat there for a second more. Jean’s body was already on edge. The more he reasoned in his head to give her more physical affection, the more his body begged for its own attention. He could feel it between his legs. 

Being a man had its disadvantages.

He leaned forward again, kissing her more forcefully before, feeling her press back, her mouth opening to suck on his bottom lip. He groaned so easily it wasn’t fair. Her hands were over his chest and she whined, begging for more. He wanted more, he wanted to mount her and…. The thought of Roy doing the same flashed in his brain and he pulled back. “God damn it,” he cursed. 

She stopped, leaning up as he rubbed his face. “What?” 

He shook his head quickly. He turned back to her, cupping her face with his hands and pressing firmly against her. Fuck me, his mind screamed. She moaned into the kiss as her hands met his hair. It was going far too fast. Mornings were like this in his prior experience. Imagining himself with a pregnant woman only made things worse. 

Pregnant. 

He stopped again, rolling back onto his back and groaning loudly at the ceiling. 

She fell back too, rubbing her temples. 

“This is not a good idea,” he whispered. Mostly because he would not be able to please her properly with the idea of a baby inside her, let alone his best friend’s baby was inside her. He had a hard time reasoning the act. 

“Why not,” she quickly asked. “It’s not like I’m going to  _ get  _ pregnant.” 

“Haha,” he laughed lightly. “You have humor.” He growled quietly in frustration. “Because we don’t know each other,” he moaned to the ceiling. “We can’t just …” 

She rolled over so that she was half on top of him. “You are really going to tell me no?” 

He groaned loudly again, his head hitting the pillow. “I become emotionally attached easily,” he argued. 

“And you’re not now?” She raised her eyebrow. “You’re not emotionally invested in this?” 

Jean stared at the ceiling. “To be honest here, I’m imagining you and me doing it while Mustang sits in the back and tells me what I’m doing wrong.” 

She frowned and patted his chest with her hand. “But I’m serious,” she leaned up and kissed his chin. 

He wanted to just tell her to call Mustang. He was already imagining them making out while he was gone in the living room, why not just make it happen? But still, he looked down at her. His spine was rigid, taunt, and unmoving. His skin felt hot and her touch 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said quietly as their eyes met. He didn’t want to be the bad guy. Jean didn’t want to hurt her feelings anymore. He looked deeply into her brown eyes to see the rejection hit her. Yet… He was the bad guy now. She sighed, putting her chin on her hand on his chest. “I’m trying to take this seriously and I don’t want premature sex to ruin what we are trying to accomplish.” He sat up on his elbows. 

He could see her thinking things through. He didn’t think she cared. She instead sighed and played with what little hair he had on his chest. “It doesn’t have to mean anything,” she whispered. 

“I want it to mean something,” he said. 

Riza bit her lip and looked up at him. She had the dignity not to beg for it, but her eyes didn’t lie. She was disappointed. She rolled off of him, rubbed her face and whined. “It’s… these hormones,” she mumbled through her palms. 

Jean knew. The pheromones that she’d been giving up were driving him insane, or so he reasoned. He rolled over to his side and looked at her seriously. “I can’t be him.” 

There was a stillness between them as the words seeped into the sheets. It almost looked like she was going to start crying for a moment and his heart sunk. Then she nodded and looked back at him. “You don’t have to be,” she whispered.

He pushed himself up, leaning over her, his hands on either side of her shoulders. He kissed her softly, first on the bridge of her nose, then on each cheek, and then on her lips. He let his lips linger, giving meaning to the sensations that washed over both of them. It always amazed him the surge of an experience it was with a kiss. Then he crept up her jawline to her ear. 

Her hands reached up his sides, holding onto him as his kisses trailed down her neck to her collarbone. In a swift motion, her shirt was discarded and he stopped to take her in. No wonder she was off-limits, she was beautiful. Her body was an art piece, smooth with delicate curves, like rivers that his fingers wanted to explore. There was a scar on her side, a remembrance to an accident during training one year, and his thumb brushed over it as if to erase it from her in a single swipe. Her baby bump was perfect, his fingers sliding down it as if they were children sledding down a hill. Up her body, he stopped at her breasts. Jean wasn’t even sure if they were touchable until her hand took his and placed it on it. It was a pillow for his resting palm. 

He pulled his hand from her body and leaned down to place his lips upon her. The kisses trailed down her sternum to her navel, her fingers now in his hair. He could hear his brain screaming to go faster, but he refused himself. He was going to do this right. He wanted to feel all of her, and his fingers thus ventured to explore her body. He couldn’t say it wasn’t awkward. It was. But he kept telling himself that he’d give her what she wanted, and this was part of it. 

Her hands were eager, rushing to feel him. She was frantic as he was slow. It made him wonder… No… He wasn’t going to wonder. He was going to stay in the now and just do as he was asked. She didn’t ask for anything but him and that was all he needed to hear. As he went back to kissing the base of her neck, her chin tilted down so her lips could reach his ear. “Jean,” she begged. 

Her fingers tugged on his waistband, running low to feel him. She smiled. He smiled. “You first,” he breathed, his eyes hooked to hers. Without breaking contact, she slipped from her pajama pants, tossing them to the side. With a grin, he trailed fingers from her lips to her waist. All his muscles tightened. He felt his heart beating hard against his breastbone, it thumping in his ears. She felt so warm. 

It was agonizing for him to go so slow, especially with her fingers pulling against him. Her head fell back as she gasped and his face found it’s nook in her neck. He groaned against her skin, tasting the salt of her sweat as he kissed her there. Even if there wasn’t supposed to be emotions involved, it was hard for Jean not to let them intervene. He wasn’t just a guy who could do that. Not to Riza. So as their hips met and she whined, her fingers clawing at his ribs, he felt on the edge of a spiritual realm with her. Every movement was with her, and he strained to hear her breathe. His kisses on her chest lingered to feel her erratic heart beating beneath his lips. 

He hoped, with all of his being, that it was just as explosive for her as it was for him. He felt it in his toes and in his hair. Every muscle in his body spasmed, his stomach tightened, and his breath was stolen from him. Not surprising, she didn’t scream out. She made whining sounds, tightening her lips as she screamed behind them. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted her to gasp every curse word she knew against him. Her fingers dug into his ribs as she pulled him closer to her, and he obliged. 

He fell off of her to catch his breath and to orient himself with the earth again. It felt as if he had just outrun Kain Fuery in a marathon, something no one thought they could do. His lungs felt too small, his heart beating too fast. “Fuck,” he breathed. He was definitely going to have to do that more often. He turned his head to see her eyes tightly shut as her chest heaved for oxygen as well. He would ask her how he compared, but he was afraid for the answer. Instead he rolled his head back to the ceiling. “Do you like to cuddle afterward,” he asked between breaths.

“What kind of question was that,” she laughed. Her head fell to the side to look at him. “Do you know women who don’t like to cuddle?” 

“I’m guessing Rebecca for one.” 

“Now you’re thinking of women besides me?” She tisked him. 

“Not like that,” he rolled his eyes. “I just like to cuddle.” He turned to face her. 

She shifted closer to him, rolling on her side. “I’d love to,” she breathed. 

He wrapped his arm back around her and kissed her forehead. “Feel better?” He had to at least know that.

She nodded. “Thank you,” Riza breathed.

He wasn’t sure what to make out of that kind of thanks from Riza. It felt taboo, like he shouldn’t have just done what he did. It was wrong, yet, he felt good from it. There was a sense of completeness between them, a connection which begged to be met. Though he’d argue it was still too soon and that he was getting too deep, another part of him reasoned that it was no different from other girlfriends he had. He was an adult, she was an adult, this happened. 

Jean felt his skin itch as her fingers grazed his chest. There was no way that he could make this a regular thing. No, he argued with himself. It wasn’t about him. Maybe it would grow into something, but if it didn’t, he would reason that he tried. He wanted to try. Deep in his gut, he wanted to try and help his friends. He had a role to play, and Riza asked him to fill it. 

He shifted back into the pillows, putting his arm behind his head as he looked back up at the ceiling. He didn’t think his body would move even if he willed it to. It was another point where he was going to have to wait for her to move first. Now all he could do was breathe, listen to her breathe, and hear Hayate snore on the side of the bed. He was on a different plane of space which all that existed was a satisfying exhale. It was the best place to be. 

When he thought about it, it was different. It felt so good. Maybe she’d always had a liking to him in different ways. Jeans raised an eyebrow as he watched the ceiling. Was it easy for her because of that, or was it easy for her because her body raged for affection? Was it so easy for the two of them to hold each other like this because it was always meant to be? Jean held in a scoff. Now he was getting ahead of himself. He had a protective nature. They’d been good friends because of that common denominator. That didn’t mean that they were meant to be together from the start.

Then he wondered. He wondered if Mustang knew they were doing this and if he was hurting knowing it was happening. Jean put his hand on his stomach, his fingers grazing her hand, and closed his eyes. That was so much worse than he thinking that Mustang should have been having sex with her. Damn if he could ever escape his wandering mind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still not completely in love with his chapter which is why it's late. So I hope that y'all enjoyed it nonetheless. 
> 
> So! I do have an excuse for most of it. My good friend was pregnant with her first child and she told me that she felt so weird because it made her so unlike herself. She had really wild cravings while being completely too sick too long, and she just felt weird. I have to say, I've based much of Riza's pregnancy off of my friend's pregnancy. As much as I have tried, there are no children in my life to compare my own experiance. So yes... it's unreasonable that Riza would normally do this, but pregnancies make you do weird things I suppose. Will you just bear with me here!? 
> 
> Thank you for reading, thank you for the comments. You all keep me going until next week when I'm banging my head on the wall over the next chapter. All is good. heh heh.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a final resolve, Jean sees Riza's tattoo.

Jean woke to her moving around. He was sure they’d slept later than they should have. They’d spent all of Saturday sleeping. It’d probably been really good for her, not so great on his part. When it came to bedtime, she’d still go to bed with a cup of warm chamomile tea, he’d be up all night for sleeping all day. He felt her push up off him and he grunted at the weight. Opening one eye he saw her golden blonde hair in a mess and something else. He turned his head and squinted. There was a large scar on her left shoulder, and a scarred pink tattoo under it. Jean’s eyes widened. That was what she told him months ago. 

She hunched over on the edge of the bed as she groaned and woke up. His hand reached out, brushing her hair aside so that he could see it more clearly. She flinched under his fingers and pulled away from him. It wasn’t a surprise. She’d not shared it with him all 7 weeks they’d been married, so for him to suddenly see it was probably a shock to her as well. He stopped though, still curious and surprised at how big it looked. It made his body stiff, especially to see a large burn scar on her left shoulder. That was where Mustang had burnt her? 

“Let me see it,” he demanded carefully, softly to lessen a threat. 

She pulled her arms over her bare breasts and faced him. 

“What? We can have sex but I can’t see your back?” 

He could see the cogs spinning in her head. 

“It’s not like I can read it anyway and you’ve already told me about it.” He sat up, scooting towards her. As he sat on the edge of the bed, she turned her back to him. 

“I’ve kept it hidden,” she whispered over her shoulder. “It can’t get out. Do you know that?”

He nodded, as his finger carefully swept her curtain of hair to the side. It engulfed her whole back with two large scarred areas. His other finger traced over the Latin letters, as he imagined the pain that it must have felt. “Your father did this to you?” He whispered the words in disbelief. “How…” 

“Alchemists can’t just find something and not write or publish about it,” she tried to explain. “He found the most powerful alchemy in the world and he needed someone to protect it.” 

“So he chose you?” Jean frowned. How could anyone do something like this? This was not what he believed in alchemy. Instantly he wondered if Mustang would do the same but the thought was pushed out of his mind immediately. Mustang was a different type of man. He protected the ones he loved. “You’re the bearer of his secrets?” Then his fingers traced the outline of the larger scar. “How could Mustang ever do this?” 

“You don’t understand.” Her head fell and he felt her back tense under his touch. 

“I want to,” he assured. 

She shook her head with a sigh through her nose. “What he did in Ishval was beyond…” She stopped. “Both of us knew that the secrets of flame alchemy needed to be destroyed. It was only right that it was by fire.” 

Jean frowned. “How could he do this, though,” his tone raised as he felt anger grow in his chest. “This is barbaric!” 

“It’s not,” she argued, pulling from his touch. “You weren’t there, Jean. You didn’t see what we saw, what we did! This is justice for all those people!” Her head dropped to her chest. “I begged him to.” 

“You were basically a living notebook for your father,” he pointed at her. “And then Mustang burns you because it’s justice?”

She reached down to grab her shirt off the floor. 

“God, Riza.” 

“It was my decision,” she declared. “I’m the one that asked him to do it. Can’t you understand that?” 

Jean couldn’t. He could never imagine even watching something like that. It enraged him that she’d be the subject to this kind of abuse, more upset that she wanted it done to herself! She didn’t deserve any of it. “It wasn’t … Did you volunteer for this tattoo?” 

Her head dropped in silence. 

“God, Riza.” He stood up.

“It’s my burden to bear. It’s my body, my right!” 

Jean couldn’t argue with her, but he wouldn’t stand for self-mutilation. “You-” 

She cut him off. “What we did, I deserve this.” Her tone quietened and she slipped on her shirt, hiding the scars. 

“You were being manipulated,” he tried to argue. “You were just doing what you were told.” 

“What is done is done,” she turned to face him, looking seriously into his eyes. She was telling him to drop it. 

Thing was, he didn’t want to drop it. He wanted to stress her importance. He knew she held guilt and that she found it her responsibility to change everything that happened. That was a reason why she was with Mustang so tightly. However, scarring herself over a tattoo that her father inflicted upon her made his stomach tighten. 

“Roy…” She breathed as she looked towards the doorway. “The Promised Day did a lot for Roy. It helped both of us feel like we finally did something in return for our sins. But in that moment, after we’d come back after Ishval, we had destroyed people’s lives, people’s homes, their way of living, and for what? Sure, we were following orders,” she agreed. “But looking back at that moment, looking back at how we felt then, we should have stepped away from it all.” Her hand reached behind her shoulder. “My father dared to burden me with his life’s work, Jean. He wanted me to only give it to those who were worthy. There is no one on Earth that is worthy.” 

“Then why did you let Mustang live?” 

She chuckled at the humor of that question. “Because he wanted to make things right.” 

He nodded slowly, understanding the weight that Mustang had taken on himself. “That’s why he’s still going to become Fuhrer,” he whispered. 

She nodded. 

“That explains the scar…” 

“My father was a mad man,” she chuckled humorlessly. “I was only trying to be a dutiful daughter. I was naive and arrogant, and I complied.” 

None of this was fair to Jean. Let alone a  _ girl _ who was subject to such responsibility, to be hurt and burdened with such a secret. 

“Roy was a student of my fathers. When my father died, he came and helped me settle things, organize the funeral, and made sure that I was going to be okay. We were friends. He has a good heart, and I saw that.” She turned from him. “He wanted to make my father proud. I thought that he would save the world with this kind of power. I believed that he wanted to make it something for the people of Amestris.” 

Jean imagined the two of them. They went back farther than he originally thought. She would have trusted him entirely to do what was right. And Mustang failed her. He went on to burn half of Ishval to the ground with her responsibility. Jean’s body fell into itself and he sunk into his seat on the bed. 

“I had to beg Roy to undo what my father had done. I wanted all of it burned off, but he could only do this part.” Her fingers touched the tip of the scar. 

Roy would have been a mess. If they went back that far, if they were that close of friends….

“It’s not your decision, nor your burden.” She turned from him again. “It’s ours.” 

“Riza.” He stood up and walked behind her, wrapping his arms around her from behind. “As long as I live, I will hide your secret with you. You don’t have to fight this battle alone.” He felt his heart sink. He’d do everything in his power to protect her and everything that she was. He pulled back, kissing the back of her shoulder. “You have had Mustang. You’re not alone. And now you have me. I don’t think you will ever actually be alone.” He kissed her back again, feeling the tension in her shoulders fall. 

For a second he thought she was going to cry the way her body relaxed and her shoulders fell, but in the next moment, she stood up tall and turned to face him. “Thank you,” she said, smiling up at him. 

He nodded and watched her grab some sweatpants and put them on. He’d always suspected that Mustang had a dark past. He knew of his actions in the war, the title that he hated, but he didn’t know that Riza had such a deep and routing part in it. He had no idea that their history even went back farther than her enlistment into his office. No. She was the one that created him. Jean reached down to grab a pair of pants for himself. She was responsible for all the crimes Mustang had committed. Jean felt lucky that she hadn’t committed suicide for such guilt. Instead, she chose the flame, something more justifiable than death. 

He went out into the kitchen to see her starting some tea. He looked at her back again from his spot in the hallway. She hid it so easily. It was just a part of her, a part of her life. There was no wonder why she didn’t have boyfriends, or just some sex romp. She had to be careful. All the times that the group gave her a hard time, telling her she needed to get laid and loosen up… She really couldn’t. It was also why she chose Mustang to be with. It was always just him and her. There really couldn’t be anyone else. 

Jean walked behind her, kissing her shoulder as he passed by to get the eggs from the fridge. His fingers lingered on her hips, swiping along her back as he stepped from her. For a second, he thought he felt her lean into him when he passed back by to the stove. He thought he heard her breathing stop, giving way that she was taking in that little gesture. She then removed herself to take Hayate for a quick break while he cooked breakfast. They’d go on a proper walk once breakfast was done. Maybe the unveiled secrets were too much for her to handle in a short amount of time. He doubted that. She was Hawkeye, she was this impenetrable force. It was in the realm of possibilities.

He helped her organize the kitchen and clean things up before going on their after breakfast walk with Hayate. He had felt closer to her, felt her on a deeper level. Jean couldn’t help but wonder if she felt it too. Not only did they have intercourse, but she’d literally shown a side of her that no one else knew about. In a way, he felt that she should know something about him. There wasn’t really a part to tell, no big secrets that he held. He could tell her of the time he made out with Jane Ellison in the storage room of his parents’ general store. There weren’t any deeper secrets than that. He looked over at the summer flowers along the sidewalk. A serious talk like that and it all seemed to slip away from the lovely moment before and the previous mood more or less snaps like a twig. 

He looked down at their swaying hands.  _ “I kissed you, but have you ever even held my hand?” _ He reached out, pulling her hand into his. She looked up at him, curious, then a soft smile as her hand squeezed his back. He’d have to thank Mustang one day for trusting his secret with him. It wasn’t easy letting the love of his life marry Jean, he couldn’t imagine the anxiety knowing that Jean now knew their secrets. 

“Did you ever think you’d find happiness,” he asked her casually. “I mean, you just… It sounds like you didn’t think you ever deserved it.” 

She shook her head, stopping in step so that Hayate could pee on the grass. “I don’t really deserve it…” 

“Not after the Promised Day?” 

She hummed and looked up at the cloudy sky. “I suppose maybe, but happiness itself is different.” She turned to look at him. “What about you and all your girlfriends?” 

He laughed, feeling their arms swing together so easily. “No. I can’t say I can. I’m sure you know that I had a few that I really got along with, but…” 

“Why didn’t you ever get serious with any of them?” 

He shrugged. “I wanted to. I really liked Mary,” he thought back. “But there was always something wrong with me.” 

“How do you figure it was with you?” 

He chuckled and watched as Hayate walked effortlessly by her side. “They always broke up with me.” He reached into his jacket pocket to feel the pack of cigarettes. He wanted one badly but had already committed himself to not smoking around her. 

“And now you’re forcing yourself into a relationship with that kind of mindset?” 

He raised his eyebrow. 

Riza looked up at him. “That something is wrong with you?” 

He exhaled loudly through his nose and shrugged. “What other answer is there?” 

She nodded slowly. “I admire your grit. You are determined to make this work between us.” 

“I have to,” he quickly answered. 

“No you don’t,” she argued gently and slowly. “It’d be easy for us to get an annulment and part ways. I could go back to what I need to do by myself, which I’m fully confident I can do, while you can go and do your thing. It’s only been 7 weeks. There’s still no evidence that this could work between us.” She smiled. “Yet, you’re really pushing yourself. I can see it.” Her hand squeezed his. “I don’t want you to force yourself to like me, Jean. I don’t think there is anything wrong with you.” 

He blinked for a second, processing what she had just said. 

“I think that you just over-analyze things. Calm down and enjoy the moment. If there is anything that military life has ever taught me, it’s live for today. I can’t change the past, and I can’t predict the future, but today I can make a difference.” 

He nodded slowly. Maybe he did think too much. 

“I talked to the general and I’m going to try to work all next week at the office.” 

“Okay.” He nodded. It wasn’t really his call, and he knew Riza was far from a housewife. She was probably going insane even doing her half days. 

“I want to work until I’m almost to term.” 

“Okay,” he agreed. “Just please don’t over do it.” 

She didn’t promise anything which made him laugh inside. “I know that the general would like to visit more often with us.” 

“With you,” he quickly corrected. 

She glared at him for a second from the corner of her eye. “That’s not what he said,” she replied. 

Jean let the comment roll off his shoulders. “I’m fine with that.” 

She laughed lightly. “He’s not there to stay long term, and I promise that he’s not going to interfere with us. I think he’s just …” She hummed in thought. “I think he misses me.” She smiled softly, affectionately as she thought of him too. 

Jean hoped that one day she smiled like that when she thought of him. Maybe it’d never happen. He had to come to accept that he wouldn’t ever replace Mustang. He’d never get the same responses that he did. He frowned, biting the corner of his lip. Maybe that was what was wrong with him. He was so eager to love and to get love. He was … needy? No, he didn’t think so. But surely he was easily jealous of other affections. Thinking back to it, it was no wonder Mustang easily riled his feathers with all the girls he “dated.” He wasn’t even dating, he was out with his intel. Still, he took them out to dinner and called it a date. 

“I think going back to work will be good for you,” he changed the subject back to before. “You’re too pent up. You’re too independent to be stuck in a little apartment.” 

“Speaking of which,” she raised her finger. “What did you want to do with the backroom?” 

“It’s for the baby,” he answered. “I guess we can get a crib for it and decorate it. I don’t know.” 

“We won’t know if it’s a boy or a girl,” she hummed. “I wonder what color we should decorate it?”

“We can wait it out, right? I mean, we still have plenty of time. Plus, I was thinking of making it into a man cave.” 

She looked at him with wide eyes. “Jean Havoc, you better not.” 

He laughed loudly. “Yes,  _ wife _ , it is my apartment and I will do what I want with it.” He flashed her a mischievous smile. 

Her face deadpanned. “I don’t think you realize that I have the means to kill you.” 

“Your baby is an anti-gun activist. It can’t even handle gun cleaner.” He chuckled. “I think I’m safe.” 

She shoved his shoulder with hers and looked the other way. “I can just have Roy get you back. I hear there are activists in Xing that need watching.” 

He grinned. “Go see Alphonse… That’d be nice. Have you heard from him lately? Or Ed?” He looked up at the passing clouds. 

They talked easily as they rounded the corner and headed back to the apartment. Finally breaking down, he began to tell her his own history. If he didn’t know much about her, he wanted her to know a little about him. They’d gone into this relationship blind, and he felt it had only brought conflict between them. He told her easy stories of the academy, saying that he’d joined the military so that he could look good in front of the ladies. It wasn’t anything that she really hadn’t heard before, but it was a conversation at least. “I was the top marksman in my class,” he said with a chuckle. “That was until I took on a 1,000 cenz bet with some chick who outshot me terribly.” It was referring to one of the first things they did together. She asked about his schooling, and he only said that he wasn’t a schooling type of kid, he had rather been about getting into trouble. 

With the good conversation and the softness in the moment, Jean decided that Sunday he’d let her sleep while he did clean the guns. He’d light a scented candle and shut their door to help her from getting sick. He also wanted to do the husband thing and get the oil in her car changed. He just had to decide if he was going to do it himself or take it to a mechanic. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do it. It was more of the fact that he didn’t feel like putting up with the trouble of it all. His growing instincts to be the husband though were getting there. 

He really didn’t even know what a husband did beside his father. To Jean, he was a great man, hard-working, and faithful to his family. Jean expected himself to hold the same values. But his father knew his mother for two years before they got married. Jean shook that thought from his head. He’d known Riza longer than two years, they just weren’t courting. That wasn’t an excuse. He still thought about what it would be like to have he and Riza’s first kiss be at a park by the pond instead of in the courthouse. He wondered what it would have been like to bring her flowers on dates and to take her out to fancy dinners, buy her chocolates and kiss her in the theatre. He wasn’t even sure she ever went to the theatre. He looked down at her while she waited for Hayate to finish sniffing another dog. He was going to have to do all those things. He was going to have to bring her flowers, bring her chocolates, and take her to the theatre. He’d even buy her popcorn. 

“What should we do for dinner,” she asked as they neared the apartment. 

“What does the monster in your stomach want?” 

“Don’t call my baby a monster,” she laughed for a second then unlocked the door. “Do you think you could find a white fish? I will fix some rice.” 

“What kind of vegetable? Would you like any?” 

She nodded slowly. “Corn.” 

He let go of her hand. “I will be back with a white fish and corn then.” He leaned down and kissed her head softly. 

He hoped that things did work out for them. He wanted it to. Knowing her secret, as that whole thing made him angry and…. It made him feel a lot of things…. He still had to love her nonetheless. Maybe after the child, she would feel less guilt about the world that she lived in. Maybe Mustang would too. As he turned from her and walked back towards the market, he committed to himself that he’d never let something like that happen to that child. He was sure Mustang felt the same. But most of all, the three of them were going to build a better world for that child so that it would never feel the same way Mustang and Riza did. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for the late post. I got caught up in homework. This chapter isn't .....so.... dark.... at least I ended it on a happy note? It's not all bad, I promise. There are good moments coming for poor Jean. As always, thank you for being a reader, and thank you for reading my fic. Have a fantastic day!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy comes over for a visit

A knock on the door and the bark of Hayate woke them up. Jean scrambled to put some pants on as their dog jumped at the door, whining with excitement. He slipped a shirt on as he rounded into the kitchen and to the door, the person knocking on it again. “Hold on,” he called, ruffling his hair. Opening the door, he saw Mustang smiling innocently on the other side. 

“Sorry, I should have called,” he quickly apologized. “I wanted to stop by and say hi. I wanted to know how everything was going?” 

Jean stepped aside and waved him in. “Riza, dear! It’s Mustang.” 

Mustang laughed at the pet name. “I see you two are getting close.” 

“Isn’t that what you call your wife,” Jean asked, raising an eyebrow at his friend. 

“I don’t know,” he replied. “I’m not married.” 

Jean chuckled and itched his unshaved face. “It’s good to see you every so often.” He crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head to Roy. “I think it’s good for her.” 

Mustang smiled and looked down at his boots. “I wish I could be here more often.” Was that regret Jean saw?

He’d been stopping by every so often, saying that he was checking up on them, but Jean suspected more than just that. He was missing out on the experience and Mustang was doing all he could to be involved. It would make sense. He’d been very busy for the first trimester. Now that Riza was really coming along, he was really making a point to be there. Jean didn’t mind, in fact it made him happy to know that he could come over and chat with Riza. She was going to work more consistently now, but that didn’t mean they got to actually talk like either wanted to. He could see how their spirits seemed to lift and their features would soften with each other’s presence. They were completely different when they were safe to do so.

“Hey,” she greeted as she came out. “It’s good to see you.” Jean could always tell she was in a better mood when Mustang came over. Her whole demeanor would change. It made him jealous in a way that she couldn’t be just like that with him. Jean couldn’t just expect it. It wasn’t like she was birthing  _ his  _ child or anything like that. She walked up to him, remaining professional as she stopped in front of him. “Can I make us some tea?” It almost amused him because she always seemed to distance herself on purpose. If it wasn’t for the softness in their posture and the fondness in their eyes, he would have guessed that they were barely friends.

“I’d like that,” he answered with a soft smile. 

“Count me out,” Jean lifted his hand. “Hayate and I will go for a walk.” 

“You can stay,” Riza quickly offered. She almost looked offended that he wouldn’t stay. 

“No,” he argued gently. “You two could use some quality time.” They did. He was sure they didn’t get the moments that either of them wanted with Jean being around. He didn’t want to intrude. They needed a moment to not be so distant. They needed a quiet time to themselves. 

He went back to the bedroom to finish getting ready. He could hear them talking, Riza telling him that she was holding down more food, that Jean had a list of food that was not even allowed in the house. Mustang sounded thankful. He told her that he was going to bring food over and wanted to know what he could bring. He sounded almost desperate to be involved. Roy told her that she was looking good, trying his best to find a compliment to make her happy.

“Is it okay to say I can’t wait to see it grow some more?” Roy’s deep voice was soft, gentle as if his words would touch her. 

Jean grinned, leaning against the wall as he spied on their conversation. He was privileged to see and hear this tone of theirs. It always sounded as if Mustang was scared to be a father, scared to be included. However, what Mustang didn’t know was that even with him not being around, he was still going to be a good father figure. No, Jean shook his head. He’d be a good dad. The kid was really going to be lucky, spoiled even. He could see Mustang giving the kid whatever it wanted. It’d probably get away with everything too. 

“It’s growing heavier,” she chuckled. “I’m not sure if I’m ready to get bigger. Jean barely lets me go for runs anymore. I’ve been reduced to taking long walks.” 

“Good,” Mustang instantly agreed. “You need to stay safe, take care of yourself.” Jean buttoned up his shirt and imagined Mustang’s hands on her stomach, bending over to feel it. 

“I don’t need to be babied,” she argued. “I’m fine.”

Mustang grunted. Jean could hear the frustration behind Mustang’s tone. Surely, he didn’t want to ruin the moment with an argument, but like Jean, Mustang was surely wanting her to relax and take care of herself first. Once upon a time, Mustang could depend on her to do the hard work, work the long hours, to be the best part of the team, and now he had her on light duty. 

“I’m not fragile.” 

“I didn’t say that,” he replied slowly. “I’m just here to care for you, that’s all.” It was the same tone that Jean often used. 

His heart began to ache. He didn’t need to hear this. He came out of the room offering a big smile to the two of them sitting at the table. “I’m going to go. Hayate and I can go pick up some fresh bread. Do either of you want anything else?” He looked towards Mustang. “Did you want to stay for dinner?” 

“Oh,” he waved his hands in front of his face. “I don’t-” 

“We would love to have you,” Riza quickly interrupted. 

He looked between Jean and Riza before sighing and nodding. “I suppose I can.” 

Jean clipped the leash to Hayate. “She’s been eating a lot of fish, is that okay?” 

“That’d be fine,” Mustang nodded, he smiled and looked back at Riza. “You’re not craving ice cream?” 

She laughed. “No, not yet. Nothing sweet.” Mustang didn’t seem to know anything. He probably felt so distant and out of the loop sometimes. Jean could see Roy’s disappointment in himself that he couldn’t know more about her. 

Jean waved over his shoulder. “I will pick up some fish and bread.” 

“Actually,” she raised her finger. “Can we have some stir fry?” 

Jean nodded. “Would you like me to pick it up?” 

Mustang stood up, reaching into his pocket. “Let me pay for it, I insist.” 

Jean shook his hands in front of his chest. “No, no!” 

Mustang shoved the Cenz into his hand. “Please.” 

Jean looked at the money than at Riza who shrugged. “Okay. Is there anything you want?” 

“Can you handle spicy chicken,” he turned to ask Riza. 

“I think so. We haven’t tried.” She nodded to Jean. “He mostly just eats what I eat.” 

“I can get some,” Jean agreed as he opened the door. “Anything else?”

They shook their head and he walked out the door. It’d be good for them to be alone. They needed it. The more he learned about the two of them, the more he realized, and accepted, their lives were going to be forever intertwined. Not that he’d ever want to stop it, but he had found himself now part of it. To leave them for a second allowed for them to be more than just comrades. They could be the friends that they always were. 

There were always the thoughts of what they  _ could  _ do while he was gone. He wasn’t going to be naive. He imagined the hand-holding, the hugs, even the kisses. Mostly it was the kisses that made his skin prickle with anxiety. It was odd to imagine kissing someone who was so also interested in kissing someone else. He hadn’t caught them, and he thought that if he did, he’d just leave and go back later. He wasn’t sure what he’d do anyway. It’d be like walking in on anything that you weren’t supposed to see. You just shut the door and pretended not to have seen it. But, it did bother him. He imagined him holding her against the wall, their lips pressed desperately against each other like they were making up for lost time, or rushing to catch up. He could see them stumbling back down the hall, her hands pulling open his shirt…. Jean’s eyes grew big. It’d all be in the bed he slept in! 

He sighed. The thoughts would never leave him. He’d never been in this kind of situation, this kind of… relationship. He didn’t know how he was supposed to feel. He knew that his chest grew tight when he did think those thoughts. He knew he didn’t like it. It wasn’t easy for him to feel like he wasn’t supposed to care. He knew he said that he wouldn’t, but that was before they kissed, before they had sex, before making dinners with her and laughing… He felt betrayed in a sense that the moments that they spent were moments that she’d spent with Mustang first. It wasn’t just that either. It wasn’t as if those moments were spent and they went their separate ways. Mustang and her were still really close. 

Since having sex with her, Jean felt closer to her, more intimate as a couple. He wanted to believe that they were stronger together. However, like he said, he was emotionally attached. When Mustang came over, the few times that he had already, Jean worried that he was just a tool for her to use. The possibility was slim to none to that happening and he tried to reason that Riza wasn’t like that; but he still felt that way. What had really bothered him, especially now while he walked, was how Mustang felt as he thought about the two of them. Mustang was not stupid. He would have to know that they were having relations. If it bothered Jean about it, he could only imagine how gut-wrenching it was for Mustang. Yet, the man held a straight face the whole time.

He never considered Mustang being okay with Riza being with others. Mustang could be that sexually secure. He trusted Riza in a deeper sense, on a deeper level, than anyone ever imagined. 

To lighten their life, maybe it would make the two feel better to have a night to themselves? Jean laughed at himself. He shouldn’t complain at all, he was getting laid one way or another. It still ate away at him. It wasn’t proper. A small part of him urged him to encourage it, while the rest of him shuttered at the thought of her calling out “Roy” while he and her were having sex. That wouldn’t be awkward at all. Then it’d only conclude his theory of being a warm body for her when someone else should be there. 

He got the food, still taking his time walking back. He looked at his watch. It’d been an hour. He let Hayate sniff a dog. How long did it take for him and Riza to do it? Considering that she was so hormonal, not an hour. That was a generous gift of time for cuddles though. He sighed, his shoulders falling. Why was he so insecure about it? Because, he reasoned with himself, Mustang was the one that got her pregnant.

That led into a whirlwind of more thoughts. Jean had never considered the baby once to be his. It was always just “the baby.” Now, he was reminded that it was Mustang’s baby. He groaned. 

He got to the door, reluctant to go inside. Whatever he saw or heard, he had to understand. He had to reason that it was something they deserved in a sense. They had only been married a few months. No, he argued in his head. No, she was your wife. Jean's stomach tightened and he felt sick. He couldn’t allow the idea of her sleeping with the two of them devour him. He needed to believe that she wasn’t going to discard him when he wasn’t needed. 

He opened the door to see no one at the table. He slowly put the food on the counter, unclipping Hayate from his leash. The dog barked and instantly ran down the hall. He put the leash on the wall and followed in pursuit. 

"You’re back," he heard Riza say.

He poked his head into the second room. It was bare besides a few boxes. They hadn't planned on doing anything with it yet. Mustang and her stood in the middle of the room, bent over and rubbing Hayate’s head affectionately. He stepped into the room and put his hands in his pockets. So far, so good. They weren't where he expected them to be. It actually looked like they’d been going through some journals.

"I think I want the crib there," she told Jean. 

He nodded and looked upward and to the side. "We need a rocking chair." He couldn’t let them see his uneasiness of them being together. 

"He's right," Mustang instantly agreed. 

She turned to him with a gentle smile. “I think that’d be wonderful.” 

Jean nodded, starting to feel more relaxed. 

Riza turned to Jean, her eyes happy and content. It’d been a while since he’s seen that kind of look in her eyes. Jean could bring her happiness, sure. He could tickle her sides and make her laugh, or earn a proud smirk when he played tug of war with Hayate. But this kind of happiness was reserved for Mustang and he knew it. It must have felt when souls come back together after a long parting, he thought. 

“He offered to buy the crib,” she informed him. 

Jean could have argued against it, but it was Mustang’s child. This was a way that Mustang could be involved, and participate in the child. If that was what made him happy, then Jean wouldn’t argue against it. The man couldn’t play a role like Jean’s, couldn’t comfort her, and couldn’t hold her, so if buying a crib was how he felt that kind of involvement, Jean had no reason to stop him. He’d welcome any motions from Mustang that made the man feel part of the child’s life. 

“You haven’t been feeling sick,” he asked, looking to his wife. “I don’t want you to start eating when you’re feeling sick already.” In reality, Jean wanted to make sure that Mustang didn’t, or hadn’t, seen her sick. If he felt useless during that time, it might break Mustang to see her in that condition. Before, he could honestly say he wanted Mustang to be the one holding her at night and trying to get her to eat, but now he realized that he was so desperate to be there, Jean wasn’t sure if it’d be good. He frowned in his brain. Jean was protecting the general from the worst part of the pregnancy. 

She shook her head. “I’ve been feeling better lately.” 

Mustang looked at her worriedly. Or maybe that was something that Mustang wanted, Jean argued to himself. Maybe he did want the long nights with her and the testing of foods and cravings. She wasn’t even in her last trimester and it’d been rough. The puking seemed to be a day to day thing. Either one day she was sick, or she was good to go. But even that, it could change. It seemed that if she ate too much of anything that the baby had a problem with, she’d suffer for it. Jean wondered if it’d be worth it to give them a whole day together, he would still feel… Jean wasn’t sure what he’d feel if Mustang had to care for her for a day. There was a sense of sympathy that they truly deserved each other and Roy couldn’t even be there to take care of his love and future child. 

Jean led them into the kitchen and got out the plates. Roy instantly told Riza to sit down and was quick to Jean’s side to help him dish out food. “Why aren’t you giving her so much to eat?” Mustang looked at Riza. “Shouldn’t she be eating more? Why are you not feeding her more?” Thankfully it was less of a harsh accusation and more of a “I don’t understand” question. 

Before Jean could answer, Riza chimed in. “If I eat too much, I get sick.” 

He looked back at her, then at Jean, then at the plate. 

“Don’t worry,” she encouraged. “If I’m still hungry, I will eat more.” 

“I hope so,” he chuckled nervously. 

Jean handed him her plate to give to her. Mustang put it in front of her and instantly sat down next to her. Jean honestly expected the man to reach out to touch Riza, but he didn’t. His eyes only watched her hand for a moment and then went to his plate. 

“What else do you like to eat?” 

Jean watched, still slowly making his plate as she told him that the baby liked certain apples, carrots, sourdough bread, and milk, but she had to be careful of the milk to avoid kidney stones. She liked white fish, though she couldn’t have much of that. 

“What about pasta,” he inquired. 

She nodded. “Occasionally I will have pasta.” She tapped her finger to her chin. “I don’t like chicken so much. The baby just doesn’t crave it.” She shook her head. “Not a big fan of pork either.” 

“What about red meat?” 

She shook her head. “Not really. Occasionally I try to eat it, but puking up steak bits is rougher than other things.” 

Mustang nodded slowly, taking in what she was saying while taking a bite of his spicy chicken. Jean could see him reasoning her words, seeing that she was physically changing and her diet had to change with her. She was slowly becoming a woman that he wasn’t so familiar with. Sure, it was Riza, but the little things that made her like her diet that was different. 

“It’s been changing, strangely enough.” She smiled and nodded. “I’m thankful that today I’m feeling okay.” Mustang went to say something but Riza cut him off. “It’s good to go to work. I think it helps me from feeling so bored. Jean won’t let me do anything.” 

Jean sat down on the other side of the table and chuckled at the accusation. 

He could see Mustang trying to pick the right words. He could see the itch in the man’s hand to touch her belly. He could see the way that Mustang looked at her, biting his bottom lip as he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to tell her that he’d be there for her, but in reality, Mustang knew that he wasn’t going to be able to. Afterall, wasn’t that part of her marrying Jean, so that there was someone there for her? Mustang sighed, chewing thoughtfully through his chicken. Never had Jean seen the man so on edge. Maybe like Jean, he was pondering the social acceptance of his actions. He wondered if Mustang also thought if it’d be okay to do all the things he wanted to do. One thing was for certain, he was doing his best not to look at Jean. 

“You need to calm down, sir,” Riza sighed. “You’re making the table tense.” 

“I just worry, that’s all.” The general poked at his meal. 

“Worry all you want, I’m still going to have to finish this out and give birth. Nothing is going to change that.” 

He nodded slowly and took another bite of his chicken. Was there a sliver of disappointment, or maybe regret, that Jean was seeing? 

He didn’t say anything as he watched. He was an outsider anyway, he didn’t need to intervene. Jean wanted them to have the moment that they deserved, that was meant for them. After Mustang left, she’d feel empty again and he’d have to step up to fulfill the space.

Mustang chuckled and looked down at Hayate. “How do you think Hayate will feel suddenly being second in the line of command?” 

Jean saw Riza frowned sideways. “I did give that some thought,” she admitted. She looked down at her dog. “I don’t think it will be a problem. He has already been very protective of me. I’m sure he will be protective over the child as well.” 

Mustang grinned and nodded. “What a good boy he is.” 

The conversation seemed forced a few times, like the awkwardness of the room was growing too heavy to break. Towards the middle of the meal, Jean just wanted to get up and leave so that there wasn’t a barrier for them to be. He wanted to leave his insecurities at the door and walk away. It pained him to see it, watching their fingers twitch to touch, or their eyes trying to catch the others from the side. Maybe there was a meeting, a trip of some sort, that they could go on. Even if the general had pulled her from the list, Jean thought it might be good for her to go, to go back to her old job. Maybe it’d make the dark lonely chips in his eyes fill. The way that his eyes seem sunken behind his low lying black hair. He was dying inside. 

“I have to go,” he cleared his throat and stood up. 

Jean looked up from his plate, noticing that Mustang’s plate wasn’t clean. He walked over to Riza who was getting up and pulled her into a hug. Jean heard him say something and Riza’s face changed, softened a little, before Mustang pulled back and reached out to shake Jean’s hand. 

“Thank you, Havoc, for being there. If you need anything, you reach out to me. You have my number.” 

Jean stood up and took his hand for a firm shake. “I will, sir.” 

Mustang turned to grab his jacket. He stopped at the door before turning around. “I will be happy to see you at work tomorrow,” he said before opening the door and leaving. 

It was clear to Jean that Mustang couldn’t handle it anymore. He couldn’t handle being that close to her and not having anything to say or do. He was helpless and within a finger’s reach of her. 

“It was good to see him,” she smiled. “I like it when he visits.” 

Jean nodded. “Does it help when I leave? I mean, is it less awkward?” He might as well just get the question out in the air. 

She sat back down and played with her noodles, pressing the green onion around with her fork. “Yes and no.” But she didn’t elaborate and he wasn’t going to push her. 

Jean wasn't sure he really wanted to know what they were doing so he wasn't going to push the issue. He began to clean up, making sure that he wiped everything down as to avoid her nit-picking at him. He had to wonder some days if she had always been like that. He laughed in his head. The pregnancy had only intensified her standards of living. He let her get up, move around for a while. She made her way to the couch, then to the back room, then to the kitchen again. She was antsy. 

“Are you okay?” He dried his hands and turned around. 

“I’m starting to feel sick,” she admitted. “I’m hoping that I can just walk it off.” He could only assume it was the way that the day went that was making her sick. She missed him.

He nodded and walked to her side. He put his hand out on her back, rubbing in slow wide circles. If she was going to get sick, she was going to get sick. Neither could do anything about it. Jean waited for some time before insisting that she sit down. He handed her a mystery novel and with a pat on her leg, he went back to putting the food away. He wanted to tell her that them getting away would be a good idea, but his stomach still gripped at the idea. He wanted to be okay with it. He wanted to encourage it, but how could he? He was stuck in a three-way relationship that he was going to drown in. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of Roy angst here. Something for Jean to see. Roy doesn't have it any easier. He would want to be part of it all and realistically, he wouldn't be able to. I'd like to think that Jean would see this. After all, he's part of the surveillance team. But, Roy is going to do what he can, where he can. He wants to be involved too. 
> 
> Sorry about the late update! The little pink post it note on my wall gets crowded out by "get this paper done" and "find a tutor." Sigh... I'm glad you guys are still enjoying the fic though. Continue to enjoy the angst. Have a fantastic day.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riza is getting bigger and doesn't fit her clothes anymore

The rain blew cold outside, but inside the house was warm, wrapping the family in a comforting blanket of heat. The aroma of a rich gravy and fresh buttermilk wafted through the apartment but no one was hungry. Dirty pans sat in the sink untouched and the radio played a narrated story which only the dog seemed to be listening to as it curled up in its own bed, ears twitching. T he adults had retired to their room for a moment, too caught up in themselves to remember anything else. Her work could be set aside, and his patrol was long forgotten. Nothing else seemed to matter. Jean was thankful for this. It was as if he was looking at a still frame painting from the outside in, with the colors of the apartment standing out in the light from the lamp. 

His fingers traced lazy eights on her back and she leaned against him, their bodies sealed together. It was something he certainly could get used to. He could lay back every day and feel intimate on this level with someone. He needed to feel close. His nature called for companionship. His blue eyes lifted to the ceiling as his mind relaxed and he realized that he didn’t have to think of anything at all. It was nice for a change. 

When he did rise, rolling to his side of the bed, she moaned and yawned. Her hand reached out for him to rejoin her. The pregnancy made her so tired that Riza was most unlike herself. However, if she did sleep in, she was too upset with herself for company. Her face scrunched up with disappointment and she rolled onto her back. He watched her short hair sprang up from its reserved form and her brown eyes blinked awake. If Riza Hawkeye was beautiful in her normal state, she was gorgeous now. Her naked body fell back before rolling back towards him. 

Jean chuckled, running his own hand through his blonde hair and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Come on,” he encouraged quietly. “You’re going to be angry with yourself if you stay in bed.” 

“I know,” she mumbled, but she didn’t move. 

Jean stood up, reaching for his boxers on the floor. “I have to go do some rounds,” he informed her. He turned back to her, slapping her naked thigh as he walked by her. “Come on.” 

Normally, under any normal circumstance, Jean would imagine their roles swapped. He remembered a time when he was spotting for her and fell asleep. She gave him a good kick in the thigh for it, but no words were ever exchanged. He turned on the shower and thought about it. They’d worked close together more than he gave himself credit for. She was someone that he could actually trust his own back with. 

He heard her come in while the water washed the morning from him. The thoughts of just an hour ago made him grin and his ego felt a boost. He opened the curtain and nodded at her, his hair flat on his head, sticking to his forehead. “Hey,” he nodded, checking her out. 

She laughed and nodded back. “Feeling cocky are you?”

“Join me and find out.” 

He didn’t expect her to. She wasn’t that loose of a person he found. But it was still worth the invite. She did as he thought and tsked him, shaking her finger at him. “There’s not enough hot water for all three of us,” she said as she pointed to her stomach. 

Jean was about to argue when Riza turned and walked out to get dressed. Even after everything, they’d done, and the time they had spent together, it still felt a bit odd in his mind to see her naked at all. It was still feeling as if he was looking at something that he really wasn’t supposed to see. It wasn’t like he could tear his eyes away either. He went back to his shower and let him enjoy the hot water by himself. He needed a comedown time. 

Being domestic seemed to suit Jean. The normality of it all was soothing in a sense. Looking back to his family, it made more sense that this kind of lifestyle was his calling. His family was tight, reliant on each other, and held values that sealed them together. It was rare to see his parents not kiss before leaving the house, or his sister cuddling openly with her boyfriend on the couch as they read books together. His parents, in fact, were very close. Shouldn’t he be that way too? All the years looking for a girlfriend wasn’t because he was just looking for a night between the sheets, but companionship where he also had someone to cuddle close to on rainy days. He wanted someone to kiss goodnight and to hold. Forced or not, now he had it. 

With a towel around his waist he walked into their bedroom. Riza was staring at two shirts on the bed. He didn’t take her for a woman who debated on her clothes every day. Prior to their secret covering marriage, he only really saw her in a uniform, plus or minus a few times. He tilted his head curiously and reached into his drawer for a collared shirt. 

“Something wrong,” he asked, grabbing a fresh pair of boxers and putting them on. 

“I don’t fit these anymore,” she sighed. “I kind of do, but not really.” Her fingers reached out to one of the blouses. “I barely fit my uniform. I had to order a bigger one and even then, it’s uncomfortable.” 

He walked up behind her, wrapping his long arms around her, and placed his chin on her shoulder. It was a moment that he was reminded that he was much taller than even he knew. “I can still reach around you,” he whispered in her ear. 

“I still have grown,” she whimpered. He never thought he’d ever in his life, ever, hear her whimper. 

“Do you need to go shopping?” 

“I don’t want to.” She sighed, putting her hands on her stomach. “I’m sure Rebecca will go with me after work.” 

She was insecure in her own body. Jean stood up, kissing the top of her head, and walked back to put on his shirt. In a way, he didn’t want to know Riza like this. 

“This is one of my favorite shirts,” she said as she picked up a light pink shirt. 

“You don’t have to get rid of it,” he said, buttoning down. “When you give birth, you can go back to wearing it.” 

He watched as her body sunk and her shoulder started to shake with the threat of oncoming tears. 

“Hey,” he quickly tried to calm. “It’s okay.” He put his arms back around her and pulled her into his chest. “I can’t tell you how beautiful you are. Maybe I don’t count and you have to hear it from Mustang and Rebecca too, but you are.” 

She continued to sob, looking at her shirt. 

“Stay in pajamas today, no one has to know. I can make you some of that tea you like and you can just rest.” 

“I don’t fit any of my clothes,” she cried. Riza Hawkeye was crying.

Mustang wasn't close to give advice or take over this new awkward situation,, so he was going to have to do it on his own.. Jean turned her to face him and reached up to wipe a tear off her cheek with his thumb. “I’m serious,” he whispered to her. “You’re beautiful.” 

She frowned as her red eyes looked up at him. “You’re just trying to make me feel better.” 

Jean tilted his head from side to side and chuckled guiltily. “Maybe so,” he admitted. “But I’m not lying. What can I do to make you feel better?” 

“Find me a shirt that doesn’t make me look fat.” She sobbed, wiping another tear. 

Jean kissed her forehead. “Just stay in pajamas for now, and you and Rebecca can go out after work.” He wiped a tear on the other cheek. “You know, I thought you were beautiful before we made this silly decision to get married.” He pulled her back and half leaned over so he could make better eye contact with her. “Then Mustang made it abundantly clear to all of us that you were off-limits. But I still could admire you.” He smiled softly. “Now I get to see you wake up and feel you breathe against me, and watch you make tea or take the dog out. Riza,” he whispered, “You are so beautiful that clothing only accents what you already are. It doesn’t matter what you wear, or even if you do your hair. If I’m not saying it, Mustang will.” 

“Both of you are biased.” Riza looked down at her stomach.

“Do you want me to call Breda?” He grinned. “I’ll do it.” His finger pulled her face up to meet his. “I do think that the entire team has accused me of only dating women in my preference for beauty. You have always stood out of that limit. You’ve been untouchable. Can you imagine how you look to me now that you are pregnant?” His nose rubbed against hers. “Radiant is a mild definition.” 

“It still doesn’t make me feel better for not fitting into my shirt,” she nodded back to the shirts on their bed. 

Jean frowned, pulling her closer to him. “I wish I could though,” he whispered. “I really do. But don’t define your beauty with some clothes.” Riza never had, and it hurt him to think she would. 

Riza pulled from his hold and walked towards her drawer. She sniffed loudly, doing her best to regain her composure, but Jean saw past that. Riza was no longer the Riza she knew of herself. She couldn’t even really hold a rifle properly, let alone a handgun, and the doctor was quick to advise against shooting. Her identity was being ripped from her. Jean frowned. As he put his pants on and did up his belt, he wondered what he could even do to help her regain that part of her that she loved. It had never mattered if anyone loved her, but it mattered to herself. 

She wasn’t a swimmer. She enjoyed early morning runs. The doctor had advised against it, but more so in her later terms. Maybe he’d encourage her to go do that. Jean looked at the pair of socks in his hands. Even living with her, there was still little actually  _ known _ about her. 

“What could you do to feel more like yourself,” he asked, watching her walk out the bedroom door. 

She didn’t answer. For a second, Jean wondered if she even heard him. 

He followed her out, watching her in her pajamas, as she set the kettle on the stove. “Maybe going for a run and running off some of this steam will help. You’re not that far along.” He walked behind her to reach for the fridge, purposely rubbing his chest against her back. “Would you like to go on a weekend trip?” 

She shook her head slowly. 

“I’m sure we can just go on an overnight trip.” 

They listened to the wind blow the rain on the window harder. 

“Maybe I don’t want to go on rounds.” He looked up to the window. “Maybe I can stay here. What could I do to help you if I stayed.” 

She turned on the stove and leaned against the counter. 

Jean watched, holding the milk in his hand. How could he comfort her? He set the milk down, reaching around her, and turned to turn the stove off. 

“Jean,” she whined. “I don’t need some bullshit hug.” 

“Maybe I do,” he argued. 

She reached back and turned the stove back on. Jean frowned. Before he could walk away, Riza’s arms pulled on his shirt, pulling him down to her level. Her hand reached around him, her other hand in his hair. He fell into her, his body relaxing in her embrace. 

She was going to be a wonderful mother. 

It was a genuine comfort to him that he felt for herself. Her fingers gripped the back of his head, pulling gently on his hair. Her other hand gripped his shirt as if she was holding him to her. Her stance was strong, ready to hold up the world if he needed it. Jean’s hold on her was soft though, letting himself envelop her. They held each other in every sense. He could feel the tension in her hold, the rigidity of her spine. In return, he let his loss of control be exposed and gave her the ability to comfort him. And behind him, all he heard was the thumping of Hayate’s tail on the wooden floor. 

* * *

Even as he stood in the cafe, watching the rain fall, he only could think of his finger tracing over her scarred back. He could see her smile as she sipped her tea. He could smell her shampoo on her wet hair. She plagued him. Jean smiled as he humored himself with the irony of everything. She was the same woman that told him that he’d find the right girl after so many losses. When he thought everything was perfect with Sol-Lust, she didn’t say anything when it wasn’t meant to be and he had a hole in his gut and was then legless. She was the one that was supportive of him in all that he did, and now he was married and happy with her. Or what he'd consider happy on a scale of his previous relationships. 

And she was his. This was not only the longest standing relationship that he had but he felt so good in it. His hand tightened on his mug, watching someone walk into the cafe. Nothing ever came this easy. It all had to be a rouse of some sort. It was a rouse in his head, he argued with himself. Why couldn’t he just be happy?

Jean took the last drink of his coffee and pulled his jacket close to his body. The news of the cafe was boring anyway. Most of it was talk of low key politics. There was barely a mention of the Fuhrer at all. It was disappointing. He’d walk down the cafe down the road and see if there was talk there. That was a military favorite cafe. Riza used to go there with Mustang on Thursday mornings. Maybe he could get talk from there. If he was lucky he could get some good gossip to give Rebecca. 

Jean stepped out into the rain and walked down the sidewalk to the cafe a couple blocks closer to the command center. He remembered long days with the team in the rain. It used to rain so heavily in East City during the spring. He remembered a day when Riza was so sick and she still insisted on being at work. She about told Mustang to shove it when he told her to go home. 

Jean grinned. It was him that took her home. It was the only half-day she ever took to his knowledge, and it was a half-day. Mustang told her it was straight up insubordination if she wasn’t going to do it. The whole team watched the two bicker it out in a near yelling match. At the end of the day, it was he that was walking her home, with Mustang’s threat beating in his ears to get her home safely. He remembered holding an umbrella over her, watching her sniffle and hold a hanky to her nose and her steps marched back home with indignation. He tried to keep up with her. Even then, he wanted to wrap a coat around her and warm her up. They had got to her apartment and her hands were shaking nearly too bad to unlock the door. He stopped her to help, making sure that she was inside. Jean remembered seeing her sneeze and sneeze and sneeze before coughing a few times. She waved him off but he never felt more inclined to stay. 

He should have stayed today. He should have wrapped her up in a blanket and held her like he wanted then. The feelings might be different, but the actions were the same. He wanted to take care of her. He looked over his shoulder back towards the apartment. He could always stop by the store and get some fresh soup. A thick potato bacon soup would be perfect on a day like today, he reasoned. He would help her organize her papers, maybe even help her review them like in the olden days. He wasn’t that bad at his job and kept up on most of his tasks back then, maybe she’d let him. 

He didn’t stay long at the other cafe either. All he could pick up is that the homeless problems were growing and moving across town to another area and they spread out into districts. That would give the general something to work with. He also heard the rail for a train to the Ishval territory was being postponed due to terrorism. Mustang was working on that as well. However, being called to Central instead of staying in the East like Mustang enjoyed, because he could be closer to his troops, caused quite a bit of stir. He was having to go back and forth quite often. If the Fuhrer didn’t want him so close, Mustang probably wouldn’t come into Central at all. The positive light the man could have, however, the better it’d be, come election season, whenever that came. 

Jean stopped by the restaurant, picking up a container of potato soup, and hurried through the blowing rain. The weather was just getting worse. Mustang was useless in this type of rain. Riza was at home too. He had no trusty bodyguard to keep him out of trouble. Jean had to wonder if that bothered Mustang at all or it was mostly that he felt alone due to the loss of deeply connected companionship? His mind turned against him as he began to wonder how lonely Mustang really was on days like today. 

Certainly, he didn’t spend  _ all  _ his time with Riza. They were in a secret relationship, after all. There were probably only a few moments when they were able to safely come together. He was just going to have to get home and cuddle with her. 

“Oh,” she said as she looked at the soup. “I was going to try to talk you into taking me out.” 

Jean looked down at the soup and then up at her. “The weather outside is torrential.” 

Riza pouted and turned to face the soup. 

“I figured we could …” He eyed the couch. “I bought a puzzle book yesterday. Do you want to do a crossword with me?” 

She sighed. He could tell she was getting pent up. 

“If you go out with Rebecca today, you’re going to have to stay warm. It’s really cold out there,” he nodded towards the window. “I just don’t want you wet and miserable.”

Riza opened the container to put the soup on the stove to warm it. He took off his boots and leaned over to rub Hayate roughly. The dog growled affectionately and wagged his tail violently through the air. He took off his jacket, seriously debating jumping in the shower and warming up. Another part of him wanted to carry her over the couch and demand that she keep him warm. He could only see her fighting him on it. What would his dad do? He stood up and walked towards her, still thinking of how affectionate how father always had been. 

Jean reached around her, turning off the stove before reaching down, and pulled her into a bridal carry. He laughed, watching her frail around at first. 

“You put me down, right now,” she demanded. 

Jean only continued to laugh as he walked back to the bedroom. Hayate was on his heels, barking up at them as they went. He dropped her on the bed and then jumped to hover over her. “There... Now you can’t go out,” he grinned. 

Riza glared at him, squinting her eyes with displeasure. “You better be careful with what you wish for,” she huffed. 

“I’m hoping that you will stay with me, lounge with me, and do a puzzle with me.” 

He felt her hands rest on his sides. “I can’t stay here any longer,” she whined. “I’m so bored.”

He frowned, then grinned lightly. “Let’s go to the theatre tonight,” he offered. 

“I don't fit any clothes,” she whined some more. 

“Go out with Rebecca and get something comfortable. We can grab a bite to eat and go to the theatre. It will be fun.” 

She raised her eyebrow with doubt.

“What? You don’t think I can sit through a whole play? I will have you know that…” His words trailed off. “Okay, I took one other girl to the theatre and we made out the whole time.” He started to chuckle. 

“Do you even remember what it was about?” 

Jean shook his head with a laugh. “But she was a damn good kisser.” 

Riza pressed upon his chest to get him off her. 

Jean fell to the side. “Give Rebecca a call. And I promise to watch the play more than I kiss you.” Riza rolled her eyes as she got up. “Unless you want me to,” he then turned it into an offer. “Then we can sit in the back where it’s dark…” He snickered, watching her as she climbed up and over him this time. He couldn’t get enough of her today. He couldn’t stop looking, feeling, tasting… He wanted every aspect of her. It wasn’t fair that the rain and the wind beat violently against the windowpane, because he could think of nothing better but a picnic under some big tree at the park. He wanted to hold her hand, kiss her cheek, and tell her how he really felt about her. 

Maybe it was still a bit early for that, but he was well known for taking the speedy lane in a relationship. It was those pesky emotions that he harbored so easily. A light tinge in his brain told him not to do it, to not get so emotionally involved, but his body shut it out as his hands rested on her thighs. 

“We can go to the theatre,” she nodded slowly, bending down awkwardly. Her lips brushed his before planting a light, feathery, kiss on him. “But you have to promise to buy me popcorn.” 

“Done deal,” he quickly agreed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY OKAY OKAY. YES It's a TAD unrealistic. Our Riza is very confident. BUT! Pregnancy does weird things and I try to remember that Riza is human too. Honestly, I just wanted a chapter that caught one day of them that wasn't... bad. It was just them together. I hope that I accomplished that for you all. Here's a snip from the next chapter, just to keep you going: 
> 
> Heartburn was keeping her up at night and Jean had been doing everything possible to make her more comfortable. Because Riza was getting bigger, Jean had a harder time assisting her to be more comfortable. He could tell she was doing her best to not be snappy, but times when Mustang was lightening her load at work, Jean was on the brunt end of her rampage. It took much of his control some days to not march into Mustang’s office and tell him to knock it off. However, Jean didn’t blame him. She was more than visible at this time. She’d already said there was fluttering in her stomach, which led to an emergency trip to the doctor at 9 pm, a trip forced by Jean. 
> 
> Have a super fantastic day! Thank you for reading, and thank you for all the comments. See ya next week!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The baby kicks

Heartburn was keeping her up at night and Jean had been doing everything possible to make her more comfortable. Because Riza was getting bigger, Jean had a harder time assisting her to be more comfortable. He could tell she was doing her best to not be snappy, but at times when Mustang was lightening her load at work, Jean was on the brunt end of her rampage. It took much of his control some days to not march into Mustang’s office and tell him to knock it off. However, Jean didn’t blame him. She was more than visible at this time. She’d already said there was fluttering in her stomach, which led to an emergency trip to the doctor at 9 pm, a trip forced by Jean. 

“It’s the baby moving,” the doctor told them. “You’re on a healthy road!” 

Jean honestly wasn’t any better than Mustang most days. He was stressing for himself and Mustang.

“God, my feet hurt,” She complained. 

Jean looked up from his work and tilted his head. He wasn’t sure what he could do for her except put them up for her. He looked back down at his notebook. He could give her some meds, but the doctor said that herbal teas helped more than pharmaceuticals. 

Riza groaned and shifted. “This baby moves too much.” She got up, wiggling from her spot in the chair. “It’s kicking my damn bladder.” 

Jean got up to help but was waved down. If she was independent before, she was a one-woman army now. At least she was keeping food down more and she was gaining weight more. The doctor said she was progressing nicely. 

Jean thought back to their last doctor visit. He remembered how Mustang sat nervously in his car outside the clinic. It’d almost be too suspicious if he went with her. Instead, he had to sit outside in his car and wait for them to come out with news. Jean had enough anxiety going himself, he couldn’t imagine how Mustang felt. However, Mustang still did his best to be there. He came over as much as he could that wouldn’t raise suspicion, and Jean did his best to leave them to their business. The two spent a lot of time in the baby’s room, which Jean figured if Mustang wanted a hand in decorating it, he wouldn’t fight him on it. It was a way Mustang could be more involved.

The hardest part was being so emotionally involved. They had only been married 11 weeks, but he had been investing his time into her. He was there for her in every step. He’d been there emotionally, physically, and in every way she needed him. Problem was that she was becoming more and more of his wife and less and less the mother of Mustang’s child in his mind. The defining line of who she was to everyone seemed to be slipping a little. Jean had to reevaluate where he was standing in all of it. 

“I just want to eat something salty,” she complained as she came out of the bathroom. “This thing in me is driving me insane.” 

Jean got up from his seat and looked through the cupboards. “You know that’s not the best thing for you.” He pulled out a bag of peanuts. “They make your legs cramp.” 

“Just give me the damn peanuts.” 

He laughed as he gave her the bag and sat down next to her. “She gets what she wants,” he chuckled. 

She leaned against his shoulder and popped a handful of the salty treats in her mouth. “You spoil me,” she mumbled. Truth was, if he wasn’t giving it to her, Riza would have gotten them herself. She didn’t really need him. In fact, Jean was starting to suspect she was allowing him to help her to make him feel better about himself. 

He turned his head on to her and kissed the top of her head before pulling his notebook up and continuing writing his notes down. 

“Did you find any more on the anarchists,” she asked, looking over at his notes. 

He nodded. “They are really spending a lot of time in the railyard. We have a shipment of arms coming in Friday, I’m wondering if that’s what they are waiting for.” 

She hummed, brushing some of her bangs from her face. She looked away, chewing carefully. Jean could tell she was thinking. She would often just stare straight ahead when she was thinking of something deeply. 

“What are you thinking about,” he inquired, putting his pen down. 

She shook her head, eating another handful. She sighed through her nose and picked up her book. 

Jean would have dropped it but he felt an urge to talk with her. “Oh, come on,” he encouraged. “I want to know.” He nudged his shoulder. 

She sighed and sat up. 

“What can I do to make it better,” he offered. His hand reached up to run his fingers through her hair. 

“I really miss Roy lately.” She looked down at her hand, a sliver of guilt found in her stare. 

It’d only been a few days since he’d visited. “Do you want me to call him?” Jean went to stand up but her hand on his leg stopped him. 

“No… I really just …  _ miss him _ .” 

Jean sat back down, analyzing the tone of her voice. Did she miss him like  _ that _ ? Or did she just miss him in presence as she would like a brother, like a friend? He bit his lip and looked at his report. She had been more hormonal the farther she got along, ranging from crying to needing sex in the same day. Missing Mustang suddenly didn’t surprise him. What did bother him was how she missed him. If she did miss him the way he feared, was he not fulfilling her needs?” Jean frowned. He didn’t think he was that bad in bed. The thought back to the last time he was over and Jean left them alone for the good part of the day. The thought was making him uncomfortable. He looked over at her, feeling brave. Maybe he’d offer for Roy to come over, or better yet say she can go to his place. As uncomfortable as he was with it, and it made his stomach sick… 

“Do you have sex with him while I’m gone?” He blurted it out without thinking and instantly flinched after he had said it. Of course, his imagination was playing all sorts of games with him. It wouldn’t be easy, he deduced. It wasn’t easy for them. So a quick little spur of the moment romping would be anything but.

Riza’s face shocked and her head snapped at him. “What the fuck, Jean!” She turned apple red. 

“No!” He shook his hands. “I’m just curious!” Though he knew he’d be somewhat mad if she said yes. 

“I am not! What kind of woman do you take me as?” 

Jean frowned. “It’s his baby. Come on! You have to miss having sex with him.” He looked like he was caught with her favorite pen at the office.

She glared at him but didn’t rebuke his argument. 

He sighed, looking back at his notes. “I won’t ever compare to him will I,” he said quietly. 

She stayed quiet but glared at her book. It was enough evidence to Jean that he was right. It hurt him, deep in his ribs it hurt, that no matter how this all played out, he’d never feel good enough. When Jean really got down to it, they’d been married less than a year, while Mustang and her have known each other for a lifetime. Asking her why she missed him was like asking a deer why it loved the mountains. They were part of each other for so long. Of course Jean could never compare to him. It felt as when he lost his legs. He was just to sit on the sidelines and watch things pan out. This had to have been one of his worst ideas. He should have listened to everyone that tried to discourage him. 

He was more surprised that this hadn’t blown up now that he thought about it. “Is he going to help decorate the baby room,” he asked timidly, looking for a safer subject to talk about.

She shrugged. “I think he wants to.” She put her book down and looked towards the door. “I think he feels very left out.” 

Jean nodded understandingly, wishing he could help somehow. In reality, he’d gotten so close, he wanted to help decorate too. He wanted to be every bit as involved. The fact that it wasn’t his child kept him from arguing the fact. There’d always be that division, he felt. There’d be a line in the sand where he stood in the relationship with the child. 

She put her book down and wiggled from the couch. “We are not having sex,” she answered his first question. “And if I must answer your own insecurities, I have not compared the two of you.” 

Jean watched, blinking that he came unscathed from the argument. He watched her get up and head towards the bedroom. 

He put his report down and got up to follow her. He wasn’t tired, but he knew that she liked him there. She couldn’t even really cuddle up to him. She just made sure her back was up against him. He’d spoon her, putting his hand on her stomach. That wasn’t so weird for him, strangely enough, or at least not yet. Jean chewed on his lip, walking around the apartment, and turned all the lights off, making sure everything was locked up. He made sure Hayate had enough water for the night, and petted the dog, running his hand all the way down his back before the two walked into the room. Hayate would settle down against Riza’s side of the bed where he would stay for most of the night. 

“Do you like being with me,” she asked, her own insecurities beginning to show through. 

He scratched his blond head as he thought about it. In their short time married, he also enjoyed being close with her. He liked it when she leaned on him, or when he got to run his fingers lightly through her hair. The intimacy of their lives was coming together and somehow Jean was really enjoying being with her on a domestic level. “Yeah,” he nodded. He smiled at her, taking off his shirt. “I really do.” 

“Even though all my emotions and my short tempers?” She changed into her pajama pants. 

He nodded. “I do. Well,” he started to chuckle. “It’s something I have to learn to get through.” 

She hummed in thought and sat down on the edge of the bed. She ran her fingers through her hair, her back towards him. He watched, getting into his own pajama pants. It was quite the weird conversations they were having, and he started it. They’d only been married almost four months. He shouldn’t even be this close to her. It was Riza after all. Yet, she drew him in. 

He jumped on the bed, his fingers grazing her back from where he laid. “Hey,” he whispered. 

She leaned back, slipping to the side to crawl into bed. “I just feel like you’re doing all this to make me happy.” 

It wasn’t a lie. It was a great observation. But Jean couldn’t deny that he was attracted, even in her pregnancy, and maybe more so! He had found a soft side of her that was comforting. She was more motherly than he ever thought she was. Her hands were soft, and her kisses were like air. But Mustang had done this all first. Maybe marrying her had brought more heartache than it had intended. He did want to make her happy, whether it be because he was now married to her and his thoughts on a husband would to bring the wife happiness. Maybe he was just simple-minded like that. Another part of him wanted to bring her happiness because he felt like that was something he promised he’d do. 

“I do want to make you happy,” he said softly. 

She nodded, letting his words seep in for a second. “Why?”

He shrugged. “Because I want to, I suppose.”  _ "Because I love you,” _ a voice in his head said.

She crossed her legs, tapping her foot nervously. 

He grinned as a thought entered his head. “What if I initiated sex tonight?” He rolled over to his side, growling in her neck. “Would that show you that it’s voluntary and not told?”

She giggled as she pulled from him, glaring at him as she rubbed her neck viciously. 

Jean grinned. He had decided to grow a beard out and it was super tickly against her. Wrapped his arms around her and pulled her towards him. He nuzzled his nose back into her neck. He was learning very quickly how easy she really was to love. To be honest with himself, though… he loved most of his girlfriends at four months. Riza just happened to be one that was sleeping with him, eating with him, and talking regularly with him. He couldn’t say any of that with his past girlfriends. 

She rolled to the side, facing him with a smile. “You just like me for the sex.” 

“Not true!” He gasped dramatically. “I like that you review all my reports for me too!” He grinned mischievously. 

She slapped his shoulder. 

He laughed, fake flinching from her. Jean rolled over her, sliding between her legs. He sat up and grabbed her hips, pulling her towards him. 

“It’s your turn to feel frisky, huh?” She let him, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“Only if you want to. So far we are on a good record though.” 

“You can’t ask a pregnant woman if she wants to have sex. It’s like asking Roy if he wants a nap.” 

“Fair.” He tilted his head side to side. 

Jean reached out and touched her stomach, rubbing his hand side to side. 

“Yes,” she groaned. “I’m getting bigger.” 

He smiled gently. “When I was paralyzed, my sister Emily got pregnant. I got to watch her.” It felt weird to just touch her, but Riza had pulled his hand to her stomach before once when he was annoyed that he was avoiding it. Poking her curiously only irritated her more. After that, he made a point to acknowledge it. He tilted his head as he swore he could feel something moving before he sat back up and pulled at her hips again. “She was married though and her husband was all over her.” 

“Like you are?” 

“It’s not my kid,” he said carefully. “I’m still not sure what to think about it. I’m more worried about you.” 

She pulled a pillow behind her head and shoulders. “While the mood is broken,” she sighed. “When you are gone, Roy spends a lot of time touching my belly. He told me that he didn’t want you to get jealous.” She snickered. 

Jean blinked a few times, imagining Mustang worried about something like that. “It doesn’t make it awkward for you?” 

She shook her head then frowned. “I have no problem with Roy touching the baby. It seems almost fitting.” 

“But it’s weird when I do it?” 

She stopped and sighed gently. “I feel sometimes that I have to get used to it. I’m kind of stuck in this relationship, so I want you to be more… Involved in the baby. At the same time, it’s odd for you to be invested in it.” She looked up at him, making solid eye contact. “Do you want me to have this baby?” 

That was a deep question. Jean would have never in the world been prepared for something like that. “Well,” he chewed on his top lip and he tried to find the right answer over the wrong one. “It’s not really up to me.” He nodded slowly. “I can say that I think I’m excited about it, though.” He started to laugh. “It’s going to be really weird when it comes out looking like Mustang.” 

Her smile softened and she looked at their hips. “I think he’d really like that.” 

Jean leaned closer to her. He bent over the best he could and kissed the top of her belly. “Well,” he whispered. “I guess we are all in this together. I have to play the part of dad if I’m going to play the part of husband.” He kissed up her sternum, getting ready to roll off her as the mood had died. 

“Whoa,” Riza grabbed her belly. 

Jean instantly sat up and looked down at her. “What?” He looked over her. “Are you okay?”

“It kicked.” Riza looked down and put her hand over it. 

“The doctor said it was moving.” 

“No,” she reached out and grabbed his hand, putting it on her stomach.

His eyebrows frowned as he focused to feel whatever she was talking about. Before he was about to pull away he felt something touch his hand. “Whoa,” he said, jumping back. “That was…” 

She giggled and placed her hand back on her stomach. “It’s saying hello.” 

Jean slowly put his hand back on her stomach, his eyes alive with curiosity. He felt again as the baby nudged him. The two sat still, feeling the baby bounce back and forth, hitting her stomach wall. He looked up at her, meeting her dark brown eyes with excitement. “This is so cool,” he whispered. “Wait.” He stumped to get out of the tangle of their legs and off the bed. “We have to call Mustang! He has to feel this!” 

Riza quickly reached out to grab him. “He can feel it later,” she argued quietly. “Come here.” 

Jean stopped, returning to her side. He laid down next to her, putting his hand on her stomach. Jean guessed he was invested in the little baby. It bumped him again, then again, and he couldn’t quit smiling. 

“It really likes you,” she whispered. “At least it’s bumping your hand more than mine.” 

“It’s giving me high fives.” He chuckled. “Can I… can I talk to it?” He looked up at Riza, in full wonder of the possibilities that she’d allow. 

Riza nodded, pulling herself up and into a seated position. 

“Hello,” Jean said as he got closer to it. He grinned, wondering if the baby could actually hear him. “You have no idea how spoiled you are,” he whispered. “You have a whole team that loves you. They are going to be so jealous that you high fived me first.” He chuckled, feeling it start to move again. “You are going to have to give us a little slack though,” he continued. “We have no idea what we are doing.” 

Riza rubbed the other side of her stomach. 

“What do you think it is,” he sat up and looked at her. 

“I’ve really thought that maybe it’s a boy.” She smiled. 

“I was wondering though.” He pulled himself up to sit next to her. “It can’t take the last name Mustang.” 

She nodded, her smile dropping. 

“It is going to take your last name?” 

“I suppose,” she agreed. “Roy and I haven’t gotten that far in the conversation.” 

Jean nodded and leaned back into the pillow, his eyes closing but a big grin on his face. A part of him wanted to call Mustang in the morning and tell him that the baby kicked for him first, but that’d only make Mustang probably feel bad. The man could only be there as much as he could before it started to look too suspicious. Jean was starting to feel privileged to see and  _ feel _ certain stages. 

He took a deep refreshing breath. Riza pulled his hand back and put it on her stomach as the baby began to kick again. He opened an eye and looked down.

“The thing is not going to let me sleep.”

“At least it’s not heartburn this time.” He rolled over so that he could feel it better. “Come on, baby, Mom needs to sleep. If she doesn’t, she gets grouchy at me. And technically I feel you.” 

Riza hit the back of his head. 

“What? I do!” He shook his head and closed his eyes. 

He wasn’t sure how long the baby moved around for, but Jean knew the punches and kicks were only going to get stronger as the baby aged. He thought about how cool it was going to be. He’d have to play music from the radio for it and find out what songs it liked. He really wanted to see it react to Mustang only so he could see the general’s face. He was going to be so much more excited than him. Jean leaned up, kissing Riza softly, before falling asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe get some fluff here? Touches of angst like pepper on my morning eggs. 
> 
> Sorry it's so late. I'm going to stop trying to publish every Wed.... It's just going to be sometime after Wed every week. I dunno. I hope that you enjoyed this. It's one of these that I had to get in. Most of these upcoming chapters are the ideas which the story was founded on, so enjoy!!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean is headed out to do field work, but he's anxious about leaving Riza alone.

“Make sure you eat enough,” Jean added as he packed his bag. “And don’t forget to walk! The doctor said it’s good for you to go for walks.” 

Hayate wagged his tail between them, a wide smile on his face with his tongue hanging out. 

“I walk with Hayate with you every day, Jean. I will be fine.” Riza folded a shirt and handed it to him. “We are starting to switch places.” 

Jean stopped and looked over at her. “Oh, God. I’m doing to you as you do to Mustang.” 

She laughed and handed him a shirt. “Seriously, I’m going to be fine.” She was starting to sound annoyed at his doating. 

He leaned over and put a hand on her stomach. “And you don’t keep mom up at night. She’s having a hard time sleeping as it is.” 

“I promise to get sleep too,” she sighed, her eyebrow nearly twitching. 

Jean packed the other shirt. He was finally given a mission that he was super excited about. The anarchists in the West were stockpiling arms. Shipments of guns and ammo from certain warehouses were going missing and the government was sure it was the opposing forces that had become more than a thorn in their side. It wasn’t the lame assignments like drug dealers, and Jean was itching to go. 

“I’m excited that you will be doing what you want to do,” Riza interrupted his thoughts. “You have really worked hard for this assignment.” 

Jean nodded, zipping his bag up. “I think it’s going to be fun.” 

“I hope that you are safe though.” She grabbed his shirt and adjusted his tie. “I kind of like you,” she said more as an observation of herself. 

He grinned, leaning down to kiss her softly. “Well, I kind of like you too, so I hope that I’m back on time.” He gently pushed past her, letting his finger glide over her abdomen. “And you won’t miss me that much,” he added. “Mustang will be around.” Jean tried not to stop midstep. That was right. He’d be around. Did that also mean that he’d be spending the night? He tried to shake that kind of thought from ruining his trip. 

She waddled in behind him, her little black dog bouncing before her. “He’s going to give me more of a hard time than you are,” she assured. “He should be here any moment. Wasn’t he going to give you a ride to the station?” 

Truth was, Jean was trying to leave before Mustang got there. The last thing he wanted to do was feel like he was handing her off to him. A part of him was really happy for the two of them though. The baby was more than active, a rambunctious child it was proving to be, and the one day a week that Mustang was over was becoming a long day with him following her around with his hand glued to her stomach. Maybe that was a good part of why Jean had a hard time being that kind of husband. Mustang was fulfilling that role for him. 

“I think I’m going to get there early to meet Tilson.” His hands itched to leave. He would have to kiss her goodbye in front of Mustang, and hug her goodbye, and … Jean frowned. It was going to be easier if he did it without Mustang being there. 

“Nonsense,” she argued, going to the kitchen to hand him a turkey sandwich to go. “Mustang said he’d give you a ride, it’d be rude to leave before he got here.” 

Jean bit the corner of this lip. “It’s just…” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’d have to kiss you in front of him.” 

Her eyes grew wide. “Oh,” she gasped. 

“Oh come on,” he frowned, looking at her as if she also hadn’t thought about it. “I’m the other man, just admit it.” 

“How about this,” she said as she put the sandwich in his bag. “You have a good time over there, and I will have a good time here.” 

Jean blinked. “You think that I’m worried that I won’t have a good time.” 

“You’re not going to miss me?” 

Jean pointed to the bedroom. “I told you just minutes ago that I was going to miss you!” 

She rolled her eyes and walked back to the kitchen area. “You’re just saying that. I know that you are happy to get away.” 

Jean dropped his bag and walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her from behind. “It’s been three months,” he whispered in his ear. “You’ve started to wear on me.” He kissed below her ear. “I kind of like you.” 

“So you say,” she raised her eyebrow and pulled from his grip.

“Hey, for only being married this long, I think we are moving along pretty good,” he leaned against the counter. “You haven’t left me, yet.” 

“Yet,” she joked, rolling her eyes. “But yes. I think we are moving along quite nicely.” 

“Nine months from a year until we can actually say we have been successfully wed, and almost three months till we have a baby.” He mentally got knocked in the back of the head as he was reminded that it wasn’t his. 

“Successfully wed?” Riza raised her eyebrow and crossed her arms across her chest. 

“Come on,” he laughed loudly. “We both are so emotionally fucked up at this point that we can’t say that this has been a success.” He held out his fingers. “We had sex too early,” he held up a finger. “I’m having to adjust to not only having a wife but also a pregnant wife whose baby isn’t mine.” He held up a second finger. “You-”

She swatted at him. “You stop that,” she ordered. “You have been amazing.” 

“We have fought more than you give us credit for,” he squinted at her. “I don’t know if it’s pregnancy hormones or you truly hate me.” 

“And I’m sure that you have had more sex in the last month than all of the time you were under Mustang in Eastern Command.” 

His squint deepened. “That’s cold.” 

“So, if you think that we are unsuccessful at this point,” she leaned against a chair at the table, “then why are you kissing me goodbye.” 

Because she wanted you to, he answered in his head. But the answer was simpler than that. “Because I want to,” he admitted. “Because I have to at least try to make this work. Who knows, maybe we will be married long enough that …” He stopped himself from saying that she’d forget Mustang, start their own family, and be the picturesque family of Amestris with neither being in the military. But that was as unreal as they came. She wouldn’t forget Mustang. To ask her to was a death sentence. Truth be told, Jean didn’t want to ask her two. It was asking someone to forget a part of themselves. It hurt, but Jean had to accept that. 

Riza didn’t look convinced. 

“I’m serious,” he insisted. He stood up off the table and walked over to her. He put his hands on her hips. He was so much taller than her. Her head easily met his chest, where it met Mustang’s shoulder. He looked down at her. “I do love you, ya know.” 

“I’m learning to love you too,” she whispered with a smile. She then hit his chest playfully. “The singing in the shower can be obnoxious.” 

He laughed but held her tighter to him. Before Jean could lower to her and kiss her the knock he had been dreading broke their laughter. Hayate barked at the door, running over to it to sniff the bottom of the door, tail wagging excitedly. Jean sighed as he stood up straight. 

“You’re going to have to get over this,” Riza called to him as he walked to the door. 

He hated that she was right. In all the years that he had known Riza, she was, in fact, always right. He answered the door, smiling as Mustang gave a casual wave. “Looking good for the train, Havoc.” 

“Got to look good for all the ladies,” he joked in return. 

They turned around to see Riza go to pick up one of the bags.

“Don’t you dare,” and “No,” rang out from both of them. 

She stopped and raised her hands while giving them a hard eye roll. 

“She’s doing that more often,” Jean told Mustang with a sigh. There was no stopping her. Riza would be Riza, pregnant or not. 

“I will keep an eye out for it. She will be properly taken care of, I assure you.” He chuckled. It wasn’t that Jean needed assurance. The two men knew they could rely on each other at this point to keep Riza from doing things like picking up heavy bags. “Let’s get you off, then. It’s an important train to catch.” 

Jean went over to his bag, picking it up. He kneeled down to give a good scratching to Hayate, telling him to be a good boy while he was gone. Riza stood carefully close, as if pressuring him for that kiss he was dreading. She knew he was too. She was just breaking him of his little fears and he hated her for it. He leaned down and kissed her cheek quickly, smiling as he came back up. “Please be careful,” he said quietly. “Just…” Jean closed his eyes as all the things she could do while he was gone ran through his mind. 

Her hand on his arms made him open his eyes. “We’re going to be fine, I promise,” she assured. 

Jean nodded and walked towards Mustang who looked nervously at them from the door. That look was what Jean was trying to avoid. Jean knew Mustang still loved her, would probably love her until he died, and here Jean was kissing her. The scene was probably stabbing Mustang in the heart. He was holding a straight face, but his eyes didn’t lie. Jean felt his chest cave inward and he patted Mustang on the shoulder. “We better get going before she cries.” 

“I’m not going to cry,” Riza said as her voice began to quiver. 

Mustang reached for his bag. “I’m coming back, Riza. No worries,” he called as the door closed. 

They climbed into his car quietly. Jean wasn’t really sure what to say except “thank you.” His hands drummed an anxious beat on his thighs as he looked out the window. What did he want to say? Thank you for watching my wife of three months? That wasn’t weird. He didn’t want to tell him not to fuck her, or not to kiss her. God forbid if the conversation went there, and if it did happen, Jean was fine with it as long as he didn’t know about it. Chances are it was going to happen because of how hormonal Riza had been. Jean was just going to have to be okay with some things. Most of all, he needed to not ask. His head started to hurt. It was just one big lie to himself. 

“Is there anything I need to know,” Mustang broke the silence. “You spend more time with her.” 

Jean looked at him as he thought about it. “She likes her feet rubbed. Her ankles are getting swollen.” 

“I will make sure she’s not on her feet a lot at work too,” Mustang quickly added. “She didn’t tell me that.” He then started laughing. “She doesn’t tell me anything like that.” 

Jean raised his eyebrows. Maybe he did know more than Mustang. “She has this lotion,” he added quietly. It wasn’t something he really wanted to tell Mustang, but being that Mustang was the actual father, and going to be checking on her regularly, Jean decided he’d tell him his secret. “It’s lavender-scented or some bullshit. But if you rub it into her stomach, the baby gets excited and sometimes will kick.” 

Mustang’s eyes grew large and he turned his head to Jean. 

Somewhere in Jean’s stomach, he could feel this guilt for Mustang that he didn’t know things like this. He wanted to feel happiness for the thought of Riza on the bed, Mustang hovering over her, rubbing lotion in while singing to her stomach. But the thought just made his stomach twist.

“Is it getting really active?” 

Jean nodded. “It keeps her up at night. Well,” he chuckled. “It will wake her up and then kick her bladder and she has to pee. So it’s kind of like a wake-up call I suppose.” 

“She does pee more at the office.” Mustang nodded. 

“Her tastes are now towards hibiscus tea, and she likes these cookies from that place near command…” 

“Sugar Momma,” Mustang named. “I’ve seen the bag on her desk.” 

Jean nodded. “But don’t let her have too many. The doctor said one a day is good.” his hands went back to the tune on his legs. “Eggs make her gassy,” he added. “But the doctor said it’s a good source of protein. She doesn’t eat them very often anyway.” He looked out the window. He could see Mustang writing down everything he was saying in his head. “She walks Hayate with me in the morning and evenings. I’m not sure if you want to make it that public that you are with her, but if you could get her out to walk while she’s at the office, that would help.” He bit his lip. “She forgets things...a lot. And she doesn’t like to be reminded of it.” 

“Same as in the office,” Mustang said. 

Jean nodded. “Oh!” Jean snapped his fingers. “Find a deep bathtub. Our bath isn’t big enough but she is really liking taking one lately.” 

Mustang nodded quickly. 

Jean cursed himself. They’d go get a hotel room now. Way to go, he chided himself. He grumped internally and looked out the window. “Maybe take her to the spa if you want to,” he said softly. “I think she’s pretty worked up. She could relax a bit more.” 

Mustang continued to nod. “I think we were going to paint the baby’s room,” he added as he switched hands on the steering wheel and shifted in his seat. "She said that she was going to go shopping with you.” Jean didn’t hear the disappointment in his tone, but he knew it was there. 

“Do you think it’s a boy or a girl,” Jean asked, raising an eyebrow and a playful smile. 

Mustang sat back in his seat. “I don’t think it matters to me as long as it’s healthy.” He chuckled. 

He would ask him if it bothered him that the child wouldn’t take his last name but he didn’t want to sucker punch his friend. 

“I wanted to take her to a nice dinner at least once this week,” Mustang stated. “Do you have an idea of where she’d want to go? Is she still into fish?” 

Jean shook his head, then tossed it side to side. “She still eats it, but she’s been really craving beef. But the doctor said really little amounts, so don’t take her for prime rib no matter how much she begs for it.” Jean chuckled. “Chicken is a good substitute.” He sighed loudly. “She’s really been craving salt, so I always have a stash of peanuts lying around, or some kind of nut. Xingese food is still a go.” He scratched his blond beard. “I think you will have a better time with her if you cook with her. Make open-ended sandwiches with fries. Then she can have her salt.” Jean raised a finger. “But the salt does make her swollen.” 

Mustang nodded as they pulled up to the station. “Thanks, Jean,” he said as he turned off the car. “Make sure you call. It will mean a lot to her, even if she doesn’t show it. I really appreciate all that you do for her.” It was so sincere and genuine that Jean felt good about himself. He was doing a good job. It was still all guesswork, but if Mustang said it was a good job, then Jean had all the means to be happy about it. 

They got out to the car and Mustang walked Jean up to the platform. They waved at Tilson and Jean turned to face Mustang, holding out his hand. “Take care of her.” He smiled. He wasn’t going to let the deep thoughts in his head break their friendship. Riza had already, on several occasions, told Jean that she wasn’t that type of girl, therefore there was nothing to fear. He honestly hoped that they had a good time, what time they had. If anything, they needed each other, more than ever. Maybe his trip will be good for all of them. 

“Ready,” Tilson asked as Jean approached him. 

Jean nodded, looked back to see Mustang walking back to his car, hands in his pockets

“We are going to go to work right when we get there. Intelligence says that we aren’t there to investigate, only to set it up.” 

That ruined Jean a bit. He was hoping to get his hands in on everything. He sighed. 

They boarded the train, settling in. He watched all the people get settled, see Tilson get out his book and a notepad. The man was like Riza in many ways. He was always so focused on work that he sometimes forgot to have a normal life. He looked the man over, seeing a ring on his finger; a platinum band. Jean stared at it for a few minutes. “I didn’t know you were married,” he observed. “I thought you were married to your work.” 

Tilson looked at his finger and chuckled. “Old ball and chain. She’s a great woman for putting up with me.” He flicked the band with his thumb. “I heard you just got married a few months ago. Do you think your wife can handle this kind of lifestyle?”

Jean looked at his ring and snorted a laugh. If anyone could put up with this kind of lifestyle, it’d be Riza. Not only was she the only one that understood him so well, after years of working together, but she was passionate about everything she did. She’d expect the same from him. She did expect the same. At least he had her by his side. 

“I heard from the gossip chain that you had a little one on the way, is that true?” 

Jean blinked a few times as he came out from his thoughts. “Oh, oh! Yes.” He smiled. “We are very excited about it.” 

The man slapped Jean’s thigh. “What a wonderful thing! I have three! But the first two are just like my wife, at least I got a kick in with my son as the baby of the group!” 

Jean nodded, thinking about how this child was going to turn out. Black hair… narrow dark eyes… And it’d be stubborn from both parents. He wondered if it would cry a lot at night, and be needy, or if it would sleep more? He was sure with such a doting mother like Riza, the child would sleep through most of the nights. It’d be very attentive like her too. Jean chuckled as he looked out the window. Or it would be a complete airhead like his father. It’d learn how to walk early on, be smart like Mustang, and would probably be encouraged to go into alchemy. He had to wonder if Riza would even tolerate that? 

“Do you have names picked out yet?” 

Jean shook his head and scratched his beard. “Not yet. Whatever she wants,” he chuckled lightly. “As long as it’s not…” What was her father’s name? “Berthold.” She said she’d never name her child that. 

“That’s a great family name,” Tilson argued. “It’s strong.” 

Jean shrugged. “It’s old.” He sighed. It was going to be hard for her though. He’d dedicated a good three months to taking care of her. This mission was going to be more of a vacation. “I think she and a friend are going to have fun while I’m gone.” 

“That’s great,” Tilson nodded. “I think my wife is going to redecorate the living room. She kept saying how much she hated it before I left.” 

Jean snorted a laugh. 

“There’s no stopping them, some days.” Tilson went back to his notebook. “A baby Havoc huh…” 

Jean raised an eyebrow as he looked out the window. It was far from a baby Havoc. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jean is getting what he wants. He's off to do real spy work! Ya have to wonder how Riza will fare too. And Roy will be there to help her, not that our Riza needs any help.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean spends some time in the field but finds that he's excited to come home.

The cigarette in the ashtray glowed red as the blond man leaned over the table. His hand ruffled his hair as he gritted his teeth at the maps. It was late, he was tired, but work had to be done. It reminded him of late night missions where he’d be up all night and most of the morning. He looked up as his hand fell from his hair and over his face. Some of those missions were with Riza Hawkeye. The late nights would be quiet, and talking was light and short. They shared a similar passion however, and it was the task at hand being their mission, and the scope of a rifle. Jean yawned and looked back at the map. He missed his rifle. 

He took the cigarette between his fingers and took a deep breath from it, leaning back to puff out little Os into the dark room. He could sleep for a week. He wanted a greasy hamburger and sleep. He took another breath before tapping the ash off with a flick of his finger to the butt. He stuck the cigarette between his lips, letting it sit there while he looked behind him at the two sleeping men on the floor. One was leaning against the wall with a wool blanket over him while the other was curled into somewhat of a fetal position with a blanket covering his midsection but not his legs. He sighed. Lucky them.

Though they weren’t on missions anymore, their jobs grew differently through the years, he still felt her protective watch over her shoulder. Not that she needed anyone. Her instinct was always right on, being that she could sense someone behind or around her well enough. When he was on the ground, there was no one else he wanted to be looking over his shoulder. It was a surrender, an utter dedication of trust to her. No one could sneak up on him either. 

His mind replayed images of her sprawled out with a blanket over her head, while she looked down the scope over her section. He thought about how she would lean over him to look out a window, about her hand on his shoulder. He remembered how deadly her shot was, but how her smile in the office would bring him comfort after a date had gone wrong. “Maybe next time,” she’d say with a pat on his shoulder. 

He looked back at the map, putting the cig in the ashtray again as he ran his fingers over the roads through the hills and the tiny towns that littered the area. “Which one,” he asked himself in the silence. Once they had determined this, he’d be able to go back, take a hot shower, and call her. He just had to know how she was doing, how the baby was doing. 

The baby was just fine if he knew her. Mustang was there also. Jean dropped his head to the table. Mustang was there also. It should have been a swarm of warmth as it had been when he left, knowing his wife was okay. Not that she needed a babysitter. The only reason why she needed someone looking over her was because she worked too hard. She didn’t know how to rest, how to give herself time. Sure, she sat down in the evening to read a chapter, but he didn’t think that she actually rested. She was bringing work home, getting up early before she had to work, and coming home late some days. He knew she needed sleep, the doctor had ordered it. But she was eating, and that was what was needed right now. 

He leaned back in his chair and slumped. He reached for his cigarette again as he closed his eyes and drew from it. He could feel her thigh under his fingers, the smell of her shampoo in her hair. He could hear her sigh in her sleep. Jean let out the smoke into the room. She’d kill him if she knew he was smoking inside. He flicked the ash again and looked at the door. He wasn’t sure how other men spent years from their families, even a half a year. He’d do it if he had to, but he was finding he was very much a family man. He scoffed at himself. A military and family man. Did they ever coexist? 

Hughes. Hughes was a great example of a family man who was dedicated to the military. 

Jean had to laugh out loud. He wasn’t sure if he would ever be Hughes material. He wasn’t sure that Mustang could ever do it either, but he was doating on Riza and the baby as if they were his own. Jean gave a sideways frown. He was going to get himself caught. Mustang was running himself into a trap. But how could he ever ask Mustang to stop coming over so often, even if it was for his own sake?

Jean put out his cigarette and exhaled loudly through his nose. Where would Riza think they were? Where were the anarchists hiding? He wasn’t good at this type of thing, he determined. He really wasn’t. He could track, spot things out that seemed unusual, and surveillance on a smaller scale. But full on missions? He was a man of action. He needed something to do other than look at maps early into the morning. It felt no different than when he was in a wheelchair behind the counter of his parent’s store. He felt bored. God, he thought. He could only imagine Riza not going out into the field, being subject to countless hours at a desk. 

A knock on the door brought all three of them at attention. Jean reached behind his back to draw his pistol and he approached the door with caution. Carefully he opened it and peered out. In the dark of night he could barely make out the last person of their group, dressed darkly with no light. 

“What’s the news,” Tilson behind him asked. 

The man shook his head. He stepped inside, Jean shutting the door behind him. “There’s no traffic on that road.” 

* * *

After a long shower, and a well-earned hot meal, Jean sat down in his bunk and closed his eyes for a moment. The mission was getting towards the end with a threat of it continuing if they couldn’t narrow down a search area. He rolled over on his cot and grumbled. He’d do what he had to do, but damn was it boring. He yawned. He was going to get a good night’s sleep, maybe sleep a few more hours than he usually did, and tomorrow he’d have two servings of eggs.

“Havoc!” 

Jean rolled over to face the door. 

“The phone’s available if you wanna call the wife!” 

Jean bit the corner of his lip. All that he’d been thinking about was if she was okay. Did she even really miss him? Did she even think of him while he was gone? She had admitted to enjoying sleeping with him, stating that his warmth was nice. However, Jean couldn’t decide if the baby liked or hated him considering how much he kicked at night. Jean had thought about not resting his hand on her stomach only to avoid the baby moving and so she could sleep. His mind was starting to play against itself.

They had gotten really close really fast. He’d dated for three months before with one girl and they didn’t get this close. Well, she wasn’t pregnant either. It was everything he could do to make Riza happy and comfortable. Isn’t that what he was supposed to do? 

Jean reached into his coat hanging up by his bed, fishing in his pocket for his pack of cigarettes before he remembered he was out. He groaned, his arm going limp. There was a certain dread in the back of his head that she wasn’t going to really need him anymore after she gave birth. Maybe he’d stick around to help raise the tyke, maybe not. Maybe it’d just be raised with the office like he had always assumed. Roy would just do his part by being a good friend, like going to baseball games, or the spelling bee. He’d just go to “support” them. That would be because he couldn’t be there as a dad. Man, it was fucked up. Even if Jean stuck around, it wouldn’t be much different, would it?

The air was chilly and he reached for his jacket before walking out to the mess hall where the phone was. What was he supposed to say? Was Mustang there? He couldn’t say that, everyone in the hall would know exactly who he was talking about, though it was what he was wondering. She’d already told him that she wasn’t that type of girl, and Jean knew he wasn’t that type of guy. Shouldn’t that put his anxiety to rest? Then why did the thought of Mustang rubbing her belly suddenly bother him? He’s the one that told him to do it? Why were thoughts of them painting the baby’s room making him sick? Didn’t Mustang deserve happiness too? Wasn’t this thing just a charade for the two of them to be together?

When Jean said he’d look the other way, he didn’t think that he’d sleep with Riza at all. He thought that he’d sleep in the other room, make up excuses for why she wasn’t home. He didn’t think that they’d throw noodles at each other while cooking pasta in the kitchen or rubbing her feet while they listened to a radio show late on a Saturday night. He didn’t think she’d fall asleep on his shoulder, drooling as she snored softly. He didn’t think that in three months his fake family would start to feel real. 

He didn’t think that he’d think of her so much while being gone a week. 

Jean reached the phone, turning to ask if one of the soldiers there had a cigarette. Riza would probably lose her mind if she knew how much he had smoked while he was gone. He was sure he was going to die from cancer in a year. To think that he’d been down to just a few a day a week ago. He only seemed to smoke when he took Hayate out or while he was around town. He didn’t smoke inside, and when she was walking with him, though he itched for one terribly in the mornings. The man handed him one, lighting it for him before walking away. Jean let it hang from his lips as he dialed home. 

He wasn’t even sure if he was anxious because he didn’t know what to say, or if he was excited, but his foot tapped on the ground. He took a breath of nicotine, pulling the cig from his mouth and resting the hand on the phone. It just rang. Maybe she wasn’t home, he thought. Maybe she was out walking like he told her to do. Maybe Mustang had taken her for that dinner that he was determined to take her on. Maybe they were at some hotel - Jean hung up the phone and griped. He wasn’t going to let his mind run games through his eyes to make him get all worked up. 

He took another drag of the cig and turned to walk back to his bunk. 

“Havoc,” Tilson came up to him. “You didn’t get to talk to her?” 

He shook his head. “I think she’s probably taking the dog out or something.” 

“I hope it’s nothing serious. Does she have someone to take her to the doctor?” 

Jean’s stomach did somersaults and he felt like puking. Unless Mustang was over as much as he thought, she didn’t. He’d never considered the option of her at the hospital. Suddenly he was hoping that Mustang was sleeping over. “She’s probably taking the dog out,” he repeated. It was more for himself to hear it. 

“You should try calling her in the morning,” Tilson encouraged. “You’ve been in such a grouchy mood as of late, maybe talking to her will do you some good. I mean, we’re going back in two days.” He nudged him with his elbow. “I’ve seen how much you’ve been smoking.” 

“Just nervous about this. A lot depends on us.” He let the cigarette hang from his lips and he stuck his hands in his pockets.

“I think we will be leaving on time,” Tilson shrugged. “We’re not going out tomorrow!” 

Jean nodded. That was good news. 

“Three more days! Well, three days and a train ride.” Tilson nudged him again. “I have to make sure that I get flowers at one of the stops.” 

Jean nodded. He should do that too. 

He looked back at the phone. He should try one more time. He looked at the clock. She should have been settling down for the night. The possibilities of her asleep were pretty good. Did he really want to wake her? He shook his head mentally. She was most likely awake with all her work spread out in front of her. 

He turned back around and grabbed the phone again, dialing his number. He waited again as it rang and he began to dread waking her up. 

“Hello?” Her voice was curious but definitely awake.

“Hey,” he answered. “Just calling to tell you I’m alive.” Tilson slapped his back and gave him a thumbs up. “I hope that you haven’t been too lonely while I have been gone.” 

“I have had some company,” she answered. “But it’s been nice to have some alone time. Hayate and I enjoy the quiet.” 

“Good,” he answered, putting the cigarette out. He smiled and leaned against the wall. “Did you get the baby’s room painted?” 

“No. We were really busy at work.” 

He hummed as he thought about it, thinking of how late she’d been staying at the office. It was possible that she was enjoying the time without him nagging at her to relax. She could finally be in her own element of paperwork and pens. For a woman with a second nature of gunsmoke and brass, she was a strict teacher on grammar. She was a woman of different trades. Mustang was truly happy to have her. 

“We did however get to go out. He took me down to Seawarf and I was able to get some divine fish. I wish that you were there.” 

He smiled. “What kind of fish?” 

She went on to tell him about it, about how she was enjoying her evening walks. The other day the sunset was so red she wished that she could capture it in a picture or painting to show him. Though he was a country boy at heart, Central’s sunset could be quite pretty.

* * *

He was in bed, feeling warm and content. He had a warm body against him, snuggled up tight as he snored. Crying woke him and Jean lifted his head to look around. The body just nudged him, saying something completely incoherent. The room was dark and he reached for his watch on the nightstand but it wasn’t there. She nudged him again. Jean blinked a few times before getting up. It wasn’t his own home, strangely enough. The room was bigger and he could see a light out in the hall. Exiting the room he noticed a light on in the living room, but the crying, a sharp squill into the darkness, begged for attention in the other direction. Just nearly across the hall, he peeked into a room. He turned on the light to see a little baby, arms raised, screaming out for attention. He took a second to look at it. It was blond with puffy red eyes. Its arms were long and it kicked around as it cried out. 

Jean reached down, picking it up and pulling it close to him in a cradling hold. It slowed its screams and he began to rock back and forth. “What are you crying for,” he asked it in a whisper. “It’s late. You should be sleeping.” 

It snapped its gums, peering up at him with blue eyes. The baby was gorgeous. He reached over to a bottle of milk and put it up to the baby’s lips, the child taking to it instantly. It mewed a thank you, suckling generously as it closed its eyes. He continued to rock it, back and forth as he wondered what its name was, or where he was. He sat down in a rocking chair, pulling the empty bottle from the baby and putting the baby against his chest. “There,” he whispered. “I bet you feel so much better.” He patted the baby’s back and rocked back and forth. 

“You two are two peas in a pod.” Riza stood in the doorway itching her messy blonde hair with a yawn. 

He grinned, putting a finger to his lips. “It stopped crying.” 

“She loves you so much.” Her soft fingers rubbing the top of the baby’s head. “You’re the best father too.” 

Jean stirred awake when an arm banging across his chest woke him. He quickly wiped the drool from his mouth and shook his head. 

“We’re here,” Tilson said. “Wake up, Princess.” 

He glared shortly at the older man and looked out the window. The station was full of people, coming and going, seeing loved ones coming or going. Tilson next to him grinned as he waved out the window. His family must be there too. Jean knew Riza wouldn’t be there. She was on her way home as it was. They were just going to meet in the middle at the apartment. Still, he hoped that she’d be there. 

The depot was always loud with the trains and chatter. He brushed past the people, hurrying to get down to the taxis. 

“Hey! Yo!” Breda called from the side. 

Jean waved back at him as he fished out a cigarette. He was going to have to learn to cut back again after having all he could have for a week. “Don’t tell me you’re waiting for your girl,” Jean said with his cig between his lips. 

“Yeah, I am!”

“Congratulations,” Jean cheered, slapping his friend’s shoulder. 

“Her name is Janet, but I call her Jean.” 

Jean glared at him. “You’re an ass,” he huffed. 

“Mustang sent me. He said he couldn’t leave you out here.” He waved over his shoulder. 

“I could have taken a taxi.” 

Heymans shrugged. “I’m just following the general’s orders.” He walked up to his car and opened the door. “He said something about getting the captain’s husband home safely.” 

At first, he was just babying Riza, now Jean was caught up in the mix? Now he understood it when Riza came home agitated. 

They got into the car and Jean listened to how Heymans was actually seeing a girl. He was pretty excited about it. Jean nodded like a good friend, but his mind fretted about Riza. Obviously, and hopefully, Mustang wasn’t going to be there when he got there. Jean was already getting antsy wondering what he was going to do. 

“Maybe we should stop and get flowers,” he suggested. “Do you think she will like flowers?” 

Heymans looked over at him. “You think that she’s a flower type of girl?” He started to chuckle. 

“Probably not, but it’s the gesture right?” Jean swallowed. 

Heymans pulled the car over and Jean ran inside. There were too many flowers to choose from! Daisies, roses, lilies, and dahlias filled the shelves. He looked at them and for once in a flower shop he was stumped. Would she like peonies or violets? 

“What are you looking for, hum?” 

Jean looked to his side to an older lady. She was tall like him, her grey hair short, and she was carrying sheers and a live basket of roses. 

“What’s the occasion?” 

Jean looked back at the flowers. “I’m coming home after a trip. But I’m not even sure if she likes flowers.” 

“What girl doesn’t like flowers,” the lady laughed lightly. “What type of woman is she?” 

Jean ran his fingers through his blond beard. It was getting long, he needed to trim it down so that he didn’t look unruly. “Very pragmatic,” he answered. “Simple things, but not generic.” He looked towards the multicolored roses and summer daisies. “I want something that she won’t expect, that she will enjoy. But …” He signed. “I have never seen her have flowers before. I mean,” he thought for a second. “I have seen a few flowers on her desk from time from time.” Mustang had gotten them for her but neither admitted it. 

“Here,” she said. “Let me build you one.” 

He watched as she went from tray to tray, plucking flowers as she went along. It was like she already had it in mind. She walked to her workstation, putting the flowers in a vase, organizing them so before tying them off with a ribbon. “Some orange roses for the season, sunflowers to brighten her morning, peach hypericum…” She pointed to a green thing. “Silver dollar eucalyptus adds a nice touch, and purple alstroemeria to accent.” 

Jean had no idea what any of that was, but it looked beautiful. He quickly handed over some money and took the flowers, rushing back to the car where Heymans waited. 

“Dude,” Heymans chuckled. “Going all out?” 

“Just drive,” Jean grumped back at him. 

When they did arrive, Jean held back the shakes in his hands. He gulped again, thanking Heymans, and made plans for lunch later that week. 

“It’s a date,” Heyman’s called before Jean shut the door. He stood at the door longer than he should have and just stared at it. Hopefully, she wasn’t home. Then he could put the flowers in a vase…. Did they even have a vase? 

Carefully he opened the door, peering inside. Riza looked up and as he expected, there were reports all over the table and a book in the center. She smiled brightly, then brighter when she saw the flowers. “Jean! That’s so nice of you!” Apparently, pregnancy changed you as a person too. He honestly didn’t think that he’d ever heard that kind of tone from her. 

His shakes left him and his body instantly settled. As she stood up, holding her back, he felt himself completely drawn to her. For whatever reason it was, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. His heart pumped loudly in his ears and shockwaves shot through his body. He’s always heard “absence makes the heart grow fonder,” but he never imagined it working. In the next second he dropped the flowers on the counters and ran to her. His hands cupped her face as he quickly pressed his lips against hers. Why did it feel so different? Why did this one feel so powerful? It did though. The suction seemed just right as her hands grabbed his jacket and their bodies touched, the best it could with her stomach. Their noses pressed roughly against each other and she opened her mouth as she turned her head the other way. Taking in another breath, she moaned and it felt like he’d been electrocuted on the spot. His legs felt as if they were going to melt. 

He pulled from her just enough time to shed his jacket before he dove back into her. She held him firm as she stepped back.

“What was that for,” she asked in a heavy breath. “I mean, I’m not complaining, but…” 

“I missed you,” he said, looking into her dark brown eyes. They glowed, sparkled happiness upon the room. He leaned forward, kissing her nose and cheeks before brushing his lips against hers, feeling the plush bounce of them against his. 

“It’s been lonely without you,” she breathed against him. She then stepped bad and reached for a paper on the counter. “You have a letter!” 

He grabbed her arm and pulled her back down to him. “We’re having a moment,” he reminded. “At least give me twenty more minutes of your time please.” He pulled her close to his chest and smiled down at her. Coming home to Riza was the most wonderful feeling, and for a mere second, he thought about how Roy would have felt when he was always smiling at her in the office. It was always good to come back to her. She was a source of happiness that couldn't compare. 

She laughed as she fell back down. “Fine,” she joked. 

He brushed his nose against his and turned to face her. He sighed and let his hand feel her shoulders, his hands trailing up to cup her face. "You look so amazing," he complimented. "I'm guessing you were well taken care of." 

"We had a good time yes." Riza placed her hand over one of his. "But, it was a bit lonely here without you. I've gotten used to your constant humming." 

Jean laughed and stepped back from her. "I didn't know it bothered you!" 

Riza tugged gently on his facial hair. He knew it annoyed her to no end. "I can stand to get used to it. This on the other hand." 

"It's a work in progress." He slapped her hand away and grinned. "And how is the baby?" He leaned down and put a hand on her stomach. 

It instantly kicked back at him. "Active," she sighed. "It doesn't let me sleep some nights." Riza sighed loudly. "I'm actually getting ready to lay down for a nap." 

Jean stared at her stomach seriously. “Nap,” he commanded. “It’s nap time.” 

They both sat still for a couple seconds before Riza started to laugh. “I told you it liked you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jean misses home. He misses Riza. He's kinda grown into this husband role and it seems to suit him. He's just happy to be back. Not my favorite chapter. Only emphasizes that he misses Riza and is happy to be with them. So I hope that you enjoyed it. A few things are coming up though! I've been pretty overwhelmed with school, so I figured I'd take a break and update for all of ya. 
> 
> Hope that you enjoyed the chapter. If you did, send me a comment! Even I look forward to next week, and especially the week after that. I hope that you all have a fantastic day. Thank you for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> Only 1 chapter down! I know it's starting out slow and with a simple idea. But hang in there with me!


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